Over and Out
by xSummonerYunax
Summary: A path with no obstacles leads nowhere. As Raccoon City falls, the limits of two partners are put to the test. Billy/Rebecca
1. Chapter 1

Over and Out

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Disclaimer: Resident Evil and all its characters belong to Capcom. I write solely for fun!

A/N: Hey everyone! I decided to write this multi-chapter Billy/Rebecca fic since there aren't many of them out there. This story takes place right after the Mansion Incident and will span to the destruction of Raccoon City with various events in between revolving around Rebecca and Billy. I wanted to write this story because we don't know what happened to Rebecca and Billy after RE Zero so in a way, this is my interpretation. All right, I don't want to say anymore or else I may give too much away. I hope you'll all enjoy, and please leave a review telling me your thoughts, comments, etc.

The title of this fic is taken from a song by The Superjesus, and I thought it was rather cute and befitting for Rebecca since she's always saying, "Over!" on her radio. Heh heh.

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Forward

Rebecca Chambers plopped down on her couch, a remote in her hand as she flipped through various channels, nothing really quite catching her attention. Truthfully, she wasn't in the mood to watch anything. She just needed to do something, anything to keep her mind occupied. As trivial as channel surfing may be, she desperately hoped that it could help ease her stress. Her free hand founds it way toward her left temple, and she rubbed it gently, as if the small gesture could smooth out all the tension that had accumulated in her head over the past few days. It had been one nightmare after another. After the destruction of the Umbrella Research Facility and Spencer's Mansion, she'd thought the worst was over. She'd thought that the remaining S.T.A.R.S. could report back and expose the unimaginable reality caused by Umbrella's researches, but she should have known that things weren't that simple. They never were.

The truth about Umbrella had been brought in exchange for her comrades' deaths, their gruesome, mutilated faces still freshly painted in the back of her mind. Even though she was in the comfort of small, cozy apartment, she could almost still smell the fetid scent of death that had lurked around every corner, behind every closed door in both the mansion and the research facility. The stench had made her nauseas, and it had taken a lot of strength from her to will herself not to expel the bile that had constantly been at the base of her throat.

Rebecca turned off the television and dropped the remote on the coffee table, her mind too restless to be engaged in anything. She hugged her white bathrobe closer to her shivering form, her face suddenly becoming still and pallid. She still couldn't believe that she had witnessed…zombies among other seemingly impossible creations that she'd thought had only existed in fictional stories. Apparently, no one else could believe the truth either. Right after Brad picked her up along with Barry, Jill, and Chris, they immediately reported the situation to Chief Irons. To their anger and dismay, Irons only gave them an incredulous look before he broke into a fit of laughter. Rebecca remembered how furious she had been—standing with Jill, Chris, and Barry, their uniforms riddled with holes and sprayed with blood, and Iron had the nerve to look her in the eye and tell her that their story was "bullshit."

She recalled Chris's young features scowling in disgust as he stepped toward Irons with the intent of giving him a good punch in the face. Fortunately, Jill, the calmer member of the Alpha team, had managed to hold him back, reminding him that his aggressive behavior wasn't going to do anyone any good. Instead, she'd tried to reason with Irons, explaining Wesker's betrayal and the disappearance of the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. members, piecing together the puzzle for Irons until the story couldn't be any more apparent. Iron had the biggest grimace on his face after Jill's reasoning, his teeth clenched together tightly, his squinty eyes even more compressed as if he were somehow annoyed with how much their seemingly tall tale actually made sense. They'd been dismissed shortly after Irons accepted their story with a brief roll of his eyes and a simple "I'll see what I can do."

A few hours later, the rumors of Umbrella manufacturing bio weapons within the Arklay Woods had spread throughout Raccoon City like an untamable wild fire. Some people laughed at the unbelievable story, but most of them were furious at the S.T.A.R.S. members' "retarded deductions," labeling the once highly respected soldiers as "liars." In a matter of hours, their reputation had plummeted, their credibility robbed from them before they could even explain their side of the story. As a result, the RPD had been in complete disarray. Chief Irons was off in his own world, and the Alpha and Bravo team were both left without a leader, without direction.

Rebecca couldn't believe that it had only been two days since she and the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members barely escaped the nightmare; it felt much longer to her. The events felt as if it had happened so long ago that it no longer existed within her present, and she desperately wanted that to be true. At least then, her sanity would be saved. The young woman let out a bitter laugh and chided herself for wishing for the impossible, though, the more optimistic side of her attempted to foil her logic.

_Is it really that impossible? Look at what's happened…the things you used to think were 'impossible' have been brought to life. Zombies, spiders the size of cars, leech monsters, abnormal mutations within what used to be ordinary creatures…_

Rebecca shook her head, refusing to add more horror to the mental list. She picked up her cup of tea, ignoring the television remote resting next to it. She dismissed her previous idea that channel surfing could help put her mind at ease. There was no point in temporarily trying to escape reality for she would just be dragged back into it shortly. She took a hesitant glance at the picture frames set on her work desk by the television. There were two pictures—both of them were group pictures of the Bravo team. The pictures had been taken about a month ago at a beach party that had been planned by Richard. Rebecca smiled ruefully, her eyes welling with tears as her glance shifted from one person to the next. In one of the pictures, Edward and Richard had their arms beneath her hands and legs. They'd tried to throw her in the water, teasing her that S.T.A.R.S. members shouldn't be afraid of the water after she'd admitted to them that one of her biggest fears was drowning. Rebecca wasn't a great swimmer and the only time she'd jump into a pool of water would be when her life depended on it. The other Bravo members had crowded around her, Edward, and Richard while Enrico took the picture. It had been a great day filled with laughter and jokes, a much-needed break from the immense workload at the office.

_I'll never see them smile like that again…I'll never hear them laugh again._

She blinked, letting the tears spill, two droplets landing in her cup of tea that was held in her unsteady hands. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, tried to calm herself down, and failed miserably. Rebecca licked her lips and bit down on her lower one, forcing back an approaching wave of sorrow. Instead, she choked on her own tears. With shaking fingers, she carefully set the tea on the coffee table again. She turned her back to the desk, her face facing the cushions of her couch as she cried softly to herself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered aloud, hoping that her apology would somehow reach her dead comrades on the other side of life. She had taken yesterday and today off from work to clear her mind and recover, and did a crappy job of it. Was there supposed to be so much pain before the full healing started? Was her heart supposed to feel like it was engulfed in a great inferno, the fiery mixture of anger and hurt trying to drive the fragile organ apart, each wanting a piece of her soul?

Rebecca didn't know. She had never felt this way until now.

A summer draft breezed through her windows that were slightly ajar. The air was comforting and gentle, tickling her skin with its light, feathery kisses. Two days ago, she would have given so much just to feel the calm wind flowing outside the mansion, a reminder that there was still a normal world outside the hellish one she had been trapped in. Closing her eyes, she sent a thankful prayer to God that she was still alive, still breathing and living.

_Still able to expose the truth about Umbrella and avenge my friends' deaths…_

With a resolute nod to herself, she silently swore that she would bring down Umbrella. It was the least she could do to ensure that her friends hadn't died for nothing. While the mental pledge didn't erase the loss of her friends, it gave her a newfound strength to move on. Tomorrow was a new day and she'd make sure her determination would rise with dawn. Chief Irons, the denizens of Raccoon City, the rest of the cops in the RPD…they could all try to undermine her, laugh at her, but she'd prove them wrong. Although the odds and numbers would be against her even when she had Chris, Jill, and Barry on her side, she'd have to be patient. She had to admit that she'd be pretty skeptical too if she someone were to tell her that there were zombies living among them. She'd just have to be tolerant and cooperate with Chief Irons and all of Raccoon City.

She had learned the value and importance of cooperation from a very special person.

The tears ceased, her body no longer tense. She couldn't find the energy to make it back to her bedroom so she allowed her eyes to remain shut, welcoming the sleep that had been only a blink away.


	2. Chapter 2

Frail Moments

Rebecca stood in front of the S.T.A.R.S. office with one hand resting on the knob. She could feel the muscles in her back tightening as she gripped the knob tightly, unable to find the strength to turn it. Her expression was blank, but God knew that she certainly wasn't feeling blank in the inside. It was so quiet beyond the door. She wasn't used to the eerie silence. She was used to the loud jokes and annoying burps that could be heard when she was at the end of the hall, even before she reached the office.

_Snap out of it Rebecca. Remember what you told yourself last night?_

She didn't want to wake up this morning. Everything was so much easier when she was asleep. There was no pain, no sadness, just the stillness of the night by her side, watching her form rest in solace.

Rebecca was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even hear the low footsteps approaching her from behind.

Chris Redfield placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, catching her off guard. When she turned around with wide eyes filled with surprise, he gave her a reassuring nod. "Hey, it's just me," he replied a little louder than he normally would just to break the silence that hung glumly in the air.

She let out a sigh of relief. Ever since her experiences in Umbrella's research facility and the mansion, she had been easily startled. Her body would automatically cringe at a touch, her mind conditioned to think that it could be one of those monsters reaching for her with their emaciated and scabby hands.

"You all right?" Chris asked, a concerned look on his young face as he studied the medic carefully. He knew she had taken the last two days off to presumably recover, but she knew he understood that two days were hardly enough time. Try two years or maybe two decades.

Rebecca managed a tiny smile and nodded courteously. "I'm doing a little better, but not much," she admitted with a deep sigh. She cast a glance at her hand that was still holding the knob and closed her eyes in shame. It was such an easy thing to do, yet, she couldn't. Maybe she just didn't want to accept what she already knew was real.

Chris bowed his head at the scene, as if understanding completely what she was going through. She had heard he was in her position two days ago, finding the simple task of opening a door to be one of the greatest challenges he had ever faced. It was Barry who had summoned the most strength to complete what he and Jill couldn't. Now, he would have to do the same for the young rookie. Chris gently wrapped his fingers around Rebecca's slender wrist and guided it away from the knob before turning it. He pushed the door open, the gateway to the other side opening with each slow parting until the full display of the office was presented before the two officers.

Rebecca took in the emptiness of the room in one full glance. It was an emptiness that matched very well with the gaping hole in her heart. Everything was in place—the desks, papers, reports, shelves, everything…except there was no one to utilize them. She saw Kenneth's favorite chemistry set on his desk, the case unopened and untouched. She remembered the times when they would fight over various formulas and theories. Rebecca, obviously having more knowledge in the field of science, would always come out as the winner, leaving the much older Kenneth glaring at her in mock anger. He had promised her that one day, he was going to find a mistake in her work, and when that day came, he would be the one laughing at her pretty face. One of Forest's pistols that he'd often used for target practice with Chris was strewn on the floor. On the afternoon that the Bravo team was called out to investigate the Arklay Woods, everyone stormed out in a hurry, and Forest must have dropped his pistol during the rush.

Her eyes fell upon a picture frame on Enrico's desk. It was a picture of his family. Like Barry, he had a beautiful wife and two young daughters.

_Damn you, Wesker…damn you to hell for making all of us run out to meet our untimely deaths._

She turned around to face Chris, unable to look at what was behind her anymore. She brought her hands up toward her face, covering her distressed expression as the sudden urge to cry swept over her. Her bangs clung to her wet eyes, irritating them, but she didn't care. She didn't care that she was showing her weakness to Chris. After the hell she had been through and all the comrades she had lost, she believed that she deserved the right to cry without having to worry about whether or not Chris would think of her as an incompetent soldier

Chris stood and watched her cry, feeling helpless that he couldn't find the right words (if there were any) to console her. She was closer to the Bravo team members than he was with the exception of Forest. He and Forest had often competed against each other during target practice sessions, but Chris had always been the better marksman, though Forest's skills weren't too far behind. Forest would never have the chance to surpass him now. There were so much memories of the original S.T.A.R.S. team. The RPD would never be the same again.

"Rebecca," he whispered soothingly as he wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders. "There's a small memorial service for all…the dead members…downstairs. We should get going." With Jill, Barry, and Brad's help, he'd managed to set up a small, unofficial memorial site for the deceased soldiers. As much as he wanted to give his friends a proper funeral, it just wasn't possible due to the current instability of the RPD, and not to mention, their dead bodies had been disposed of during the explosion along with all the proof they needed to expose Umbrella, leaving the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members with only their verbal accounts of the horror as their only defense. All the files and papers with incriminating evidence they'd taken after they were found in the mansion had been too marred with blood, guts, some parts even ripped, to be used as substantial evidence.

Rebecca didn't say anything, only nodded in agreement as she found her feet moving on their own accord. She let Chris guide her down the hall slowly before they descended the stairs. Sometime after heading down the stairs, she released her palms from her wet face, allowing the air-conditioning in the RPD cool her warm face and red eyes. At the vestibule of the station, in front of the fountain where a statue of what Rebecca assumed to be some sort of goddess, was a large wreath of multi-colored roses. Chris gave her one more pat on the shoulder before he moved to the center of the small congregation that consisted of a few RPD officers Rebecca recognized.

Chief Irons was standing across from her with a look of impatience on his bloated face, his head, a mop of messy, thinning brown hair, positioned in a manner that displayed his double chin in its fully glory. She saw Barry standing next to a middle-aged woman with two little girls, and she instantly realized that they must be Enrico's family. She saw Barry's lips move, his features filled with stress, but none of his words seemed to be registering in Mrs. Marini's ears. She and the two little girls next to her were sobbing quietly to themselves, trapped in a world filled with the pain of a special lost one that no one could identify with. Enrico had been her superior, but he had been the girls' father and Mrs. Marini's husband.

She noticed Brad sitting on the floor with his head against the fountain. He looked extremely tired with heavy dark circles beneath his eyes. Rebecca couldn't read his expression. It looked like a mix between regret and anger, and perhaps it was both.

"Rebecca," a feminine voice greeted her.

Turning around, she found Jill Valentine standing next to her. "Jill…"

Jill was a serious and quiet woman, and Rebecca never really had the chance to interact with her until the incident at the mansion. However, as the only other female S.T.A.R.S. member, she did feel a lot more comfortable within Jill's presence than she did with some of the guys. She had a nurturing and caring quality, which Rebecca witnessed firsthand when they'd been stuck in the mansion together. "Hey…" she started slowly, unsure of what else to add. The Alpha team officer was a strong and bold woman, and sometimes, that intimated Rebecca a bit.

"Hey," Jill replied with a small grin. "You feeling better? I know you took two days off from work."

Rebecca shook her head. "No, not really…" She considered filling Jill in about what she'd done at home—moping around, crying every few hours, glancing at old pictures of her team, channel surfing to keep her mind at ease, crying again. It didn't seem appealing at all so she dismissed the idea. "Did I miss anything at work?" she asked, changing the subject.

Jill sighed, her eyes rolling upward to recall how terrible work had been for the last two days. "Honestly, I think you made a good choice about not coming to work. Chris, Brad, Barry, and I have been working on the report for Irons, but it's so difficult. We have no tangible proof…and the more details we put in, the more insane it sounds."

Rebecca feared that would happen, and now, it had just been confirmed by Jill. Was anyone going to take them seriously? "What about Chief Irons? He still doesn't believe us?"

"I'm not sure," Jill whispered, making sure to keep her voice low enough to be out of Iron's hearing range. "Technically, he should believe us. He and Wesker were somewhat close and Wesker's betrayal and disappearance fits perfectly into our story."

"Jill!" Rebecca's youthful green eyes widened as a new thought came to her. She felt angry that she hadn't thought of it sooner. "You said Wesker and Irons were close…and we just found out that Wesker's been working for Umbrella. You don't suppose…"

Jill nodded, already knowing what she was trying to say. "Chris, Barry, and I suspect that Irons may be working with Wesker, or worse, he may be working for Umbrella. However, we don't have proof." Across from her, Irons was shifting restlessly on his feet with his arms crossed over his broad and flabby chest. His thick mustache framed his frown, the impatience growing by the moment. "It's hard to say for now…" Jill continued, her eyes trained on her superior, making sure that his focus was not on her and Rebecca. "There's not much we can do at the moment except to give Irons the full report he wants. Chris and Barry said they're going to try to do their own investigation on Umbrella and Irons…see if there's a connection." Jill sighed, offering no good news.

"Rebecca…you mentioned that you came across Umbrella's research facility, correct?"

Rebecca nodded, already knowing what needed to be done. "Yeah, I'm going to work on that report soon. But, Jill…do you think we should make an honest report for Irons…you know, just in case he's really with Umbrella."

"I see what you mean…Chris, Barry, and I thought about it and we think it should be all right to make an honest report. I think it's a win-win situation for us. If Irons is working for Umbrella, our reports will only confirm what had really happened in the Arklay forest. If he isn't, he'll have these reports in possession in case another incident like the Mansion Incident occurs later on…" Jill trailed off at the last part of her statement. "I can't imagine going through _that_ hell all over again. Once is more than what I could ever handle, and God wouldn't be so cruel as to inflict the same nightmare on us again, right?"

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, urging herself to not think about the hypothetical Jill had just brought up. Truthfully, she was terrified in every sense of the word, but she was more concerned about what would happen if Umbrella weren't stopped. Right now, right this moment, as she stood in the foyer of the RPD, Umbrella could be continuing their research, making more of those monsters she had come across—monsters that were once human. She stole a quick glance at Irons, her mind independently racing to figure out what was really behind the chief's impassive disposition. Rebecca couldn't help but feel that he was more of a foe than an ally. "I think we should all keep our distance from him."

"I completely agree. I know Chris hasn't been near him since the day we got back from the mansion…and neither has Barry. It's too soon to see who's on whose side, but I'm sure that will be apparent in time," Jill replied, her eyes reflecting her intelligence.

"I just hope we won't be too late to stop Umbrella by then," Rebecca said.

Jill looked like she was about to agree, but something stopped her. Her lips twitched, as if she was hesitating to ask her next question. Resolve finally settled in. "The other day, Irons mentioned an issue concerning Billy Coen. He said Coen was a dangerous convict and he's expecting a report on him…that murderer. I-I heard it was with you."

Jill looked down at the her just in time to see her body straighten, her eyes capturing an interest in her feet.

"Something…wrong?" Jill started.

Rebecca felt her heart surge upward, shaking violently against her chest before it found its way back down again. She felt her throat tighten at his name, unable to utter anything. She hadn't mentioned Billy's case to anyone yet, keeping his identity and history only to herself for fear that one slip of his name could mean his death. She hadn't forgotten about his report, and she was pretty certain that he would be hunted until his death was verified._ What are you waiting for then, Rebecca? Get to it!_ Her heart continued to thunder against her chest, right beneath his dog tags she had clasped around her neck during their departure. It was the proof she needed to give him a chance at a new life, a new beginning. "I-I'll get to it today," she stammered, feeling a warm heat wave engulfing her. She should have filed that report the day she returned from the mansion, but there was just so much on her mind at that time.

Right now, she couldn't deny she was nervous, but above anything else, she was scared. She wanted to confide in someone about Billy's story, and although she felt comfortable around Jill, she wasn't sure if she could trust her. She couldn't help but feel slightly angry at Jill for labeling Billy as a murderer, but she couldn't blame the Alpha member for believing this to be the fact of the matter. Jill hadn't been there with them in the Umbrella research facility. She hadn't seen the way he'd saved her life on multiple occasions, nearly sacrificing his own safety. She only knew Billy Coen by his name, which had been marred by those bastards.

_Should I tell Jill? She'll understand, right? She wouldn't tell anyone and put Billy's life in danger, would she?_

Jill had an unsatisfied look in her eyes, but before she could further press Rebecca, Chris cleared his throat, initiating the memorial. Both women turned to face him, and Rebecca let out a small sigh, relieved that the issue with Billy was temporarily dropped.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and her mind was having trouble registering Chris's words as his voice droned in and out. Rebecca felt angry and shameful for not being able to concentrate the memorial service for her dead colleagues._ Snap out of it, Rebecca! They're dead…and you can't even seen to honor them properly_, her mind screamed, yet, she couldn't help but wonder if Billy was dead. Was he safe? Was he hurt? Was he still being hunted? She bowed her head and closed her eyes, letting the memories of him flow through her mind, allowing them to send her back to the past when they'd first met. It'd been a rough start, but as circumstances forced them to cooperate with each other, she finally saw the real Billy Coen imprisoned behind the guise of a convict. She never admitted to Billy that she cared a great deal about him. When she was in the mansion, she'd found him crossing her mind a lot, and she had been so very thankful that he was probably far away from Raccoon City, far away from the nightmare that had almost claimed her life. Rebecca felt the distinguished feeling of grief overtaking her, her entire being desperately burning with the need to know if he was all right. Rebecca owed her life to him; it was only natural that she wondered if he still had _his_ life.

She brought one hand toward her chest. Beneath her Bravo uniform, the cold dog tags felt refreshing against her warm skin. She gripped her vest, her fingers submerging into the fabric until she felt the two small, rectangular plates. She held them tightly in her palm, feeling overwhelmed with the need to protect the small and seemingly trivial objects in her possession for they belonged to someone of great importance to her. She saw him as someone who was more than just her partner. He was someone she trusted, admired, respected. A friend, maybe? Maybe, though she couldn't compare her friendship with Billy to her friendship with the S.T.A.R.S.. Her bond with Billy was different, and she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that made him stand out from everyone she knew.

She'd file his report, hand it to Chief Irons, and he would be a free man. She prayed with every fiber within her that it would be that simple.

As Chris continued speaking after a short pause, Rebecca caught Jill briefly turning her attention away from him. She could feel the older woman's eyes on her and knew she was still suspicious of Billy. Jill probably knew all the wrong facts—that Billy was a murderer, responsible for the death of twenty-three people in the past and two MPs en route to his execution. No one knew the truth but her, but would the truth—that should bring about justice—also hurt his life?

Rebecca's head hung limply, her shoulders slumped tiredly. Although she had gotten decent sleep last night, she was still exhausted, but right now, guilt rivaled her exhaustion. She'd promised herself last night that she would take the first stand to avenge her friends today, swearing that she would do everything she could to contribute to undermining Umbrella. She inwardly yelled at herself, feeling disgusted that she was disgracing her deceased Bravo friends by having someone else, someone who wasn't supposed to mean as much to her as her team members, linger in her mind. Cracking open an eye, she took in the room with a full, quick glance, noticing that everyone around her had their heads bowed and eyes closed, respectfully wishing peace upon the dead, lost souls. Closing her single eye again, she mentally whispered,_ I'm sorry. Please rest in peace…_ Wherever they were now, they were probably watching her in disappointment. Feeling the need to justify her feelings, she continued with her thoughts. _Forgive me, guys…I-I just have so much on my mind, but please rest in peace knowing that you won't have to endure any more pain, you're free…_

In a way, Rebecca envied them their freedom, but if she had to choose between fighting Umbrella for the rest of her life, facing those unspeakable monsters, or letting her soul and spirit rest in death, she'd chose the former. She was young, and somewhat naïve, but she knew one thing for certain—she was no quitter. No matter how bleak things seemed, no matter how big the obstacle in her path was, there would always be a way out if she cared enough to pursue it. She had learned that from her time spent with Billy. Witnessing him fighting for his life when he knew that the light at the end of his tunnel could be extinguished any moment had been inspiring to say the least. If she had been in Billy's shoes, she didn't know if she would have the same strength he had—to push beyond the human limits, beyond the frightening hell, only to face the possibility of being captured and sentenced to death again.

"Thanks for attending everyone…they'll be missed, but they'll always have a place in our hearts." That was the last thing Rebecca heard Chris say before the small crowd around her disbanded, some giving a formal salute to the wreath before heading back to wherever it was they needed to be. She looked up just in time to see Irons glare at the wreath of flowers with deadpan eyes before his stout form disappeared around the corner. Rebecca shook her head in repulsion. _How can he be so heartless- _Before she continued her thought, she suddenly wondered if she was much better? The service was finished, and although she had been there physically, her mind hadn't.

She was about to turn to head back to the empty office when she felt someone softly touch her shoulder. Partially turning her head around, her eyes met Jill's concerned ones evenly.

"Rebecca, we need to talk," Jill stated firmly. She didn't ask, she _insisted_.

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A/N: So we see a bit of Billy in this chapter, but I'm going to focus on building Jill and Rebecca's friendship next. Don't worry…Billy will get his moments soon! Please review with your thoughts, constructive criticisms, anything. Thanks for reading as usual and the next chapter will be up in about a week or so.


	3. Chapter 3

A Moment of Solace

Rebecca checked her watch and realized she had made it just on time. As customers went in and out of Emmy's, the diner that Jill had suggested to meet up at, she could hear her stomach growl lightly. She had been too overwhelmed with work to have a decent lunch today, and now her hunger was finally catching up to. She leaned against the wall of the diner and watched the blazing sun set below the heavy summer sky painted in deluges of orange, red, and yellow. It was beautiful, but she couldn't dismiss how much it reminded her of two explosions she had witnessed—one at the Umbrella research facility, the other at the Spencer estate. She leaned further into the wall, letting out a deep sigh of dismay. Where ever she went and whatever she saw, they all seemed to remind her of the nightmare she wanted to put behind her. She let out a bitter laugh, silently chiding herself for foolishly thinking of escaping the hell she had barely survived in.

_Silly girl, you should realize that every time you step into work, every time you see your remaining S.T.A.R.S. friends, every moment you're awake, you'll be haunted._

A cool breeze whipped through her hair, ruffling her bangs, setting them uncomfortably above her eyes. She gently brushed them back, and as she did, she could have sworn that she felt the ghost of someone mimicking her movement, his hands below hers as his fingers pushed her hair back, except there was no wound for him to cleanse this time. A small grin played across Rebecca's lips as she recalled how nurturing Billy had been during one instance when she had been injured. It'd been strange for her to see him hovering over her with his intimidating stature-his broad, toned chest and muscular arms brushing against her body as he uncharacteristically wiped away the dried blood running from a small wound on her forehead. He had gone into her medical kit without her permission, taken out a small ball of cotton, and dabbed at the cut.

She glanced at her watch again, and as the seconds ticked, she felt her heart beating faster. Jill Valentine was going to show up any minute, and when she did, Rebecca would have to start talking. Right after the memorial service, Jill had stopped her, and from the adamant look in her eyes, Rebecca knew she wasn't going to leave her alone unless she told her everything about Billy. _Jill, please…believe me._

Rebecca had given in immediately after Jill requested to know the full truth, and the two women mutually agreed to meet after work at a place where they could talk in private. There was no way their chitchat could have been accomplished at the RPD. They, along with Brad, Chris, and Barry, feared that there were invisible eyes and ears monitoring them, the sole survivors of Umbrella's conspiracy. She prayed that she wasn't going to regret her decision after dinner. The thought that she could inadvertently put Billy's life in danger by digging up a buried tale was enough to make her lose her appetite, the whiff of cheeseburger and fries no longer appealing to her.

Rebecca was tired and frustrated, and she looked it. Here usual green eyes that teemed with life seemed to have lost its luster at the moment, overshadowed by the dark circles around her rims. The healthy, rosy blush that usually tinted her cheeks was now replaced by a complete pallid complexion throughout her face, a stark contrast to the bags beneath her eyes, and to her dismay, accentuated her fatigue. Irons had put the S.T.A.R.S. on temporary suspension, stating that it was for their own good and that they should take this time to "cool down and recover." He had given them local projects to work on, the leftover works that hadn't been completed on time by the regular RPD officers. No one was happy about this, but they figured that it would be for the best if they remained low-key for now. S.T.A.R.S. wasn't exactly being worshipped for their achievements at the moment, and Barry had said that it was better than being removed entirely from the RPD during their suspension. At least they could still carry out their own little investigation on Irons.

_But if Irons IS working for Umbrella…he wouldn't be so stupid as to have S.T.A.R.S. around him, spying on him. So…does that mean he isn't with Umbrella?_

Rebecca groaned. Her own little argument with herself was making her dizzy, yet, she couldn't control the random thoughts chasing each other in her crammed head. For every rebuttal she could think of, it could always be countered. She took another glance at her watch. Ten minutes had passed. Jill had always been punctual, and this fact made Rebecca slightly worried. _Did she run into some trouble? _She watched the citizens of Raccoon City hurriedly pass her in colorful streaks. It was rush hour, and most of them were eager to get home to their families. It reminded her very much of Barry Burton, the family man whom Wesker had manipulated to carry out his evil deeds. No one blamed Barry, but he blamed himself. He had tried to act tough, put on a strong front when he was near her, Jill, and Chris, but she could tell that the invisible weight of guilt was crushing his artificial solidity.

A voice called, bringing out her out of her dark reverie. "Rebecca!"

Rebecca grinned, watching Jill Valentine cross the street, jogging toward to her. A wave of relief washed over her, and she suddenly felt silly for thinking that Jill might have been in some trouble, though it wasn't an illogical thought If Umbrella had discovered that they knew about the development of biological weapons, who knew what the pharmaceutical company would be capable of doing to them.

The older woman, like her, had changed out of her S.T.A.R.S. uniform. Neither of them wanted to draw attention from the denizens of Raccoon City. It was bad enough that false rumors were spreading, but they really didn't want to publicize their faces to their names that had been tarnished.

"Sorry," Jill said, a sheepish smile on her lips. "Heh, you look cute though."

Rebecca found herself flushing in embarrassment from the comment. She was wearing a cowgirl outfit—frayed denim shorts and fringed leather blouse cropped above her lean stomach. A red bandanna around her neck was the perfect finishing touch. All she needed was a cowgirl hat and she'd look like she'd just stepped out of an old Wild West movie. "Thanks, it's kinda hot today," Rebecca replied, feeling the need to justify her outfit it seemed too…well, skimpy. Though, next to Jill Valentine, the latter would definitely take the trophy for having more sex appeal thanks to her tight, blue tube top hugging her protruding chest and short, black miniskirt that accentuating her curvy hips and narrow waist.

Jill let out a true, genuine laugh for the first time since the days before the Mansion Incident. "Sorry about being late. Chris and I were talking."

Rebecca grinned. While she felt Chris cared for like she was his little sister, she'd seen the way he was around Jill. There were closer, at a level that transcended the sibling-like relationship she had with him. "About what?"

"I'll tell you inside. Come on, let's get some food." Jill opened the door for the both of them, allowing the teen to enter first.

To Rebecca's surprise, the diner was pretty quiet. It had looked deceivingly loud when she was outside due to the bright signs against its brick foundation and the lighted letters that flashed by the windows. She could have sworn there were more people inside too. They selected a booth at an isolated corner, wanting the privacy they couldn't get elsewhere.

"Chris brought me here before," Jill said, flipping through the menu even though she already knew what she wanted. "He mentioned that he and the guys used to come here and…" she trailed off, couldn't find her voice to finish her sentence.

"I see…um…so what do you recommend then?" Rebecca asked, quickly changing the subject before either of them could end up wallowing in despair. She quickly flipped through the pages in the menu, distracting herself with the numerous, colorful pictures of various dishes. "How's the cheeseburger here?"

"It's great. One of Chris's favorite dishes here."

Rebecca motioned a waiter over. "Great, I'll be getting that."

They placed their order; Jill asked for a simple salad while Rebecca requested something that had triple the calories.

Rebecca decided to she didn't want to talk first. Perhaps her mind was unconsciously trying to buy more time to avoid the subject of Billy Coen for fear that she would unintentionally put his life in danger. "So, what did Chris say?"

Jill looked down on her hands and shook her head in disapproval. "It's Irons. Chris said Irons doesn't believe us. He overheard Irons talking to one of his buddies at the RPD. He told him that the S.T.A.R.S. could be making the story up to cover up their mistakes and incompetence. He claimed the chopper could have went down due to a drunk and intoxicated pilot on both the Alpha and Bravo teams, which resulted in the death of the other members. As a result, they probably fled to avoid prosecution, and perhaps even detonated the mansion to make the story more believable. After all, we did have various explosives on the 'copter."

"What!" Rebecca exclaimed, her voice strikingly loud that some people turned around and stared. She avoided the onlookers' gazes uncomfortably and slumped lower in her cushioned seat. In a more controlled tone, she harshly whispered, "That's absurd! What about Wesker's disappearance?"

Jill nodded. "Irons believe that Wesker could have perished while trying to rescue the injured Bravos from the rough landing."

"This is insane!" Rebecca seethed with anger over Jill's announcement. She had never felt such a tremendous fury that could be compared to the one she was feeling now. It was so potent that she could almost feel tears stinging her eyes, the frustration too overwhelming to be bottled within her. It begged for release, but she wouldn't grant it, not now. She'd keep her cool.

The food arrived and although it looked appetizing, Rebecca lost her appetite for the second time that night. She picked up a fry with limp fingers and held it by her lips, but never consumed it. Likewise, Jill picked at her food, playfully dividing the meat and vegetables to opposite sides.

"We talked to Barry…and he said we should still stick around the RPD, get more information about Irons. In the meantime, he and Chris are conducting their own investigation on other possible labs within Raccoon City." Jill shuddered. She didn't want to think that there could be other facilities like the one in the mansion, but it was an idea she couldn't discharge either.

"I see…" Rebecca said slowly, not having much else to add. No words could describe her emotions, the raw indignation that was gnawing her insides figuratively, and perhaps literally as well.

"But, enough about this. I need to hear what you have to say…and about this Billy Coen." Jill gave her an encouraging nod.

Rebecca shifted her eyes side to side uncomfortably.

"Promise I'll try my best to understand," Jill added with an understanding smile. "I just want to know more about this Billy…I…I feel like I _need _to know, for the sake of your safety, too, Rebecca."

Rebecca inhaled deeply. She wasn't sure where to begin so she opted to start from the beginning. She closed her eyes, letting her mind feed her the images of the night the Bravo 'copter crashed. "Right after we crashed, we all got separated. Enrico and I happened to come across a disintegrated transport vehicle near the Ecliptic Express, a beautiful, first-class train used by Umbrella employees. I decided to investigate the train…and that was when I bumped into Coen." The medic reached to touch the chain around her neck and clutched it tightly, feeling as if the object was somehow capable of lending her inner strength. "I was intent on arresting him, but we soon realized that we needed to cooperate with each other to survive the ordeal. The train was infested with zombies. The T-virus was spilled by James Marcus, one of the three founding members of the Umbrella. He was brilliant…and had also conducted experiments using leeches." Rebecca recalled being confined up in the leech monster's thick, prehensile coils. She remembered losing air, losing conscious as the seconds ticked by, cold sweat enveloping her body as her demise began to materialize.

"Anyway," she continued, "Billy saved me a couple of times on the train…and we were able to activate the brakes to stop the train from crashing into the facility. We were pretty hurt from the impact, but continued on anyway, reaching the research facility. We discovered more secrets about James Marcus…information pertaining to his experiments with the leeches, his history with Wesker, Birkin, and Spencer."

"What was his history with Wesker, Birkin, and Spencer?" Jill started slowly, almost too afraid to ask.

"Wesker and Birkin were Marcus's most promising disciples, but Spencer had them assassinate Marcus because he was paranoid that Marcus was going to overshadow him with his valuable findings. After Wesker and Birkin killed him, something miraculous happened." She paused for a moment, not sure if 'miraculous' was the right word, but it had been for Marcus. "The leeches fused with his DNA and regenerated him, giving him the appearance of his younger self. Marcus sought revenge on Umbrella for what they'd done to him by releasing the T-virus. Billy and I fought him and a huge leech creature, defeated them both and managed to escape before the facility self-destructed."

Jill listened carefully, intrigued by this new discovery. "I wonder what else Wesker did… we all placed our trust into him trusted their captain. Boy, were we deceived big time."

"It was hell going through the facility. The place was filled with strange, twisted puzzles…just like the mansion. I lost count of how many times I could have died if it hadn't been for Billy," Rebecca whispered, her body involuntarily shuddering as the memories of the facility swarmed her, drenching her with cold sweat.

"What happened to him?"

"B-Billy…he was Second Lieutenant in the Marine Corps. His team was sent to Africa to quell terrorist activities at one of the villages. However, the drop-off was off-target, and due to the intense heat and exhaustion, Billy's team was reduced to only him and three other members. When they arrived at the village, they realized that the people there were innocent. He tried to stop the terrible shootings…but ended up as the scapegoat because the Marine Corps tried to cover the mistake. He was wrongfully sentenced…and was to be wrongfully executed." Rebecca breathed, felt the tears wanting to escape through her lids. "I-I…let him go. After the facility exploded, I told him to run…to start a new life. I promised him I was going to report him as deceased." She unconcealed the dog tags behind her leather blouse, held it tangling between her fingers for Jill to see as she felt her face turn red, burning with shame and sadness. "I said I was going to use this to prove his death. So much for my law enforcement career…" she laughed lightly, but she knew her face betrayed no signs of joy. When her eyes fully open to meet Jill's, she saw her friend watching her with a small, sympathetic grin.

"Y-you really believe he's innocent, Rebecca?" Jill asked quietly, fascination evident in her tone.

Rebecca could tell she was winning Jill over—this was someone who was far more intuitive than anyone she knew, and that made her feel so much reassured that sharing Billy's story had been the right thing to do. She respected Jill for not passing judgment over Billy. She had neither the right nor privilege to do so, but she could have easily refuted the revelation. The fact that Jill didn't made all the difference for Rebecca.

"Yes," Rebecca stated firmly, her voice clear and sharp. She looked at Jill imploringly. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I-"

Before Jill could finish, Rebecca lost control of her mouth, words spluttering from her lips quicker than the abnormal beating of her heart. She couldn't lose her now; she had to make Jill understand. Rebecca was nervous, and when she was nervous, she showed it. "Jill, just imagine Chris in Billy's situation? What if Chris was trying to do something good…like…expose the Mansion Incident, only to have his truth denied by the people who are supposed to be on his side, convicted because he was trying to stand up for whatever little justice we have left in the world."

Jill opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was speechless, stunned, but certainly sensitive to the words at the same time. The Alpha member closed her eyes, meditating for a few moments.

Rebecca inwardly grinned, knowing from the astonished look on Jill's face that she had strummed her heartstrings. She knew Jill had a soft spot for Chris, and she wasn't in the slightest trying to be manipulative. She was just trying to make her understand how she felt, using an analogy that could be best compared to her situation with Billy.

"I see what you mean," Jill relented, her lips spreading into a smile when her eyes opened. "I'm proud of you Rebecca. It's not often that people leave me wordless."

"Then…you won't tell?" Rebecca asked hopefully, feeling unmistakable anticipation reach her heart.

"Tell who? Irons?" Jill answered sarcastically with a playful roll of her eyes. Then, her smile faded and she looked serious again. "You have my word. I won't say anything. If anything, I'll even help you cover for him."

Rebecca felt a sudden shiver of immense relief and gratitude, feeling as if a heavy burden had just been lifted off her tired shoulders. She didn't even realize tears of gratefulness were slipping down her cheeks until she felt the salty taste of them upon her lips. Originally, she wasn't entirely sure if she could trust Jill with her secret, and now felt a pang of guilt for doubting her friend who could be risking her career if anyone were to find out what she was doing. "I hope you won't get in trouble for this." Jill was looking out for her and Rebecca would do the same for her.

"You know me. I know what I'm doing," the Alpha stated with unwavering confidence. She suddenly chuckled, her next question crossing into personal thresholds. "Do you like him?"

The unexpected question came so fast that Rebecca didn't know how to react. Although she thought about him, she had never questioned if there was an intimacy between them that transcended that of friendship. Actually, she wasn't even sure the term 'friendship' was mutual, though she assumed it was. Well, at least she saw him as a friend. She couldn't speak for Billy and it wasn't like that issue mattered right now. He had saved her life plenty of times during their escape and she had returned the favor by making him a free man. In a way, she felt like she had paid off her debt, but she didn't want to think their of their partnership being part of a barter system. She had released him because she _chose_ to. Likewise, Billy had saved her because he chose to, willing to put his life on the line for the sake of their escape, just like she'd done. Still, these thoughts didn't answer Jill's question. A string of adjectives flashed through her mind, but she couldn't pick out the right one to describe her emotion. How was she supposed to materialize her feelings into words when she didn't even know how she felt about the situation? "I…admire him I guess," she finally said after a long pause.

Jill didn't look too convinced but she accepted her answer with a brief nod. "I wish I could have seen him, if just for a moment, but secret is safe with me," Jill concluded solidly. Her blue eyes gleamed amiably, an indication that she was more than willing to help her friend if she needed the assistance.

Rebecca let out a thick sigh, feeling as if she had just exhaled a good load of pressure that had been accumulating within her. "Thanks again, Jill. You have no idea how much this means to me. I-I feel so much better after talking to you."

Jill chuckled, amused at the last part of her statement. "Heh, can't take all the credit. Maybe it's Emmy's…this place's like a safe haven for us. If we ever run into any problems and need to meet up, let's meet here."

"Agreed. Maybe next time I'll order something healthier," Rebecca said, suddenly feeling much livelier, enough to make a joke.

"Oh please, like you need to watch what you eat," Jill answered, obviously referring to her petite figure. "You're like a cute little doll."

_Doll face…_

_Been fantasizing about me?_

Rebecca beamed, a small blush tinting her cheeks, not because of Jill's comment, but because of how Jill's comment reminded her of Billy's flirtatious nature. She never admitted it, but she had shamelessly enjoyed his teases. Unfortunately, she, being the squeaky, clean goody two-shoes, had no retaliations to his playful remarks. _Unless he wanted to hear some corny chemistry and biology pick-up lines…like 'We fit together like the sticky ends of recombinant DNA,' or 'If you were a concentration gradient, I'd go down on you.' _Those were just two dirty jokes among many her former classmates had made in her science courses.

"What are you thinking about?" Jill asked, noticing Rebecca smiling to herself.

Rebecca looked at her slyly. "If someone came up to you and said, 'You're hotter than a Bunsen burner set to full power,' what would you say?"

Jill snickered. "I'd tell that person to go back to his lab and get a life."

Rebecca stared at Jill and Jill stared at Rebecca. After a few seconds, both women burst into a small fit of giggles, the peal of laughter ringing soothingly in their ears. For a moment, all their worries, sadness, and concerns vanished. They were just two friends having a good time.

But only for a moment.

* * *

A/N: Emmy's is the diner for the intro of Resident Evil 2 and the little background story between Jill/Chris and Emmy's comes from fic, Newcomer. I took the little science jokes from the internet, haha, and thought they suited Rebecca pretty well. I hope this chapter turned out okay. I was really hoping to bond Rebecca and Jill since I feel this will be important later on, especially when Rebecca's role will later parallel Jill's when Raccoon City falls. Thanks for reading and please review! Thanks again! Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

On a Fine Line

It was one of those mornings when the dark, ominous clouds lurked in the sky, the weather stifling and humid, paving the way for the imminent storm. A couple of cars honked noisily outside of Rebecca's apartment windows, but the sounds were soon drowned out by the patters of small raindrops against her panes. Rebecca listened to the soft tapping of the medium drizzle, somewhat processing the rhythmic beats in her head. She pulled her hand out from beneath her covers and drummed her nails against the mattress, attempting to join in on the little musical ensemble, her eyes closed and mind half awake all the while. She was so very lazy this morning, wanting to do nothing else but just rest in her bed, beneath her warm blankets with her stuffed bunny in her arm. Though she was eighteen with an unmatched intelligence, sometimes, she was still a child at heart and spirit. She had moved to Raccoon City as soon as she had been recruited by S.T.A.R.S., leaving behind her family, friends, only bringing with her two packed suitcases, credit cards, and nostalgic memories.

_You can't avoid this, Rebecca…_the rational side of her mind argued. Most of the time, she listened to that voice. Now, she wished she could somehow mute it. This wasn't about what was right or wrong, logical or illogical. This was about how she felt, and right now, she didn't feel like doing anything.

She retracted her hand, attempting to get in at least ten more minutes of precious sleep before her alarm clock started ringing. She had purposely set the alarm thirty minutes earlier than usual, figuring the night before that she probably needed the extra minutes to reflect and contemplate before she was about to do something that would not only affect her life, but the lives of two other people—Billy and Jill. It had been nearly a week since her dinner with Jill at Emmy's, and despite Jill's constant reassurance that she was going to accept what came her way and be okay, Rebecca knew she couldn't forgive herself if she ended up screwing her friend's life and future over. To this conception, Jill had simply said, "My life is already screwed up. Nothing can make it worse."

And as for Billy's fate, it was shrouded in a veil of mystery.

The unknown frightened her. It was a black realm with no shades of gray, no visible path leading into the realm and certainly no visible path exiting the realm. It was just pure, unadulterated darkness that sucked people in, and the scary part was that they would never know where they'd end up at after being regurgitated. Lives would sometimes change, either for better or for worse. As the seconds ticked by, Rebecca could feel herself being drawn one step closer to oblivion, and she wondered if fate would be kind enough to grant her mercy today.

_One way to find out…get your butt up! _her mind yelled again, this time, the words were reinforced by the alarm she'd set on her cell phone. The loud, jangling music was painful against her ears. She had not expected the alarm to go off so soon, but when she saw the numbers on her digital clock, she knew it was almost time to face what she'd been dreading.

Her longer brown strands of hair fell messily above her eyes, the tips uncomfortably rubbing against her lids. Unfortunately, she had always had bed hair, and therefore had gotten used to it, never bothering to tame it anymore except with a quick brush-down before she left her apartment. Her short hair always had a way of self-correcting itself later on, the layers and bangs would perfectly frame her face, an accomplishment that stunned her everyday, but seemed trivial today.

Her fingers pushed a few buttons on her phone, silencing the alarm before she groggily pulled herself out of bed. Making her way to the bathroom, she completed her usual routine. As a former science student who loved chemistry and biology, the methodical aspect of the subjects had somehow fused with her life. She was used to the mysteries of life being proven with concrete and factual details. Rebecca liked things orderly, not too fond of her life being mercurial. Trying new things once in awhile was all right, but too much change was no good in her opinion. As she brushed her teeth, she watched her reflection in the mirror, particularly her eyes. Beneath the dim light in her bathroom, her eyes appeared black instead of green, the color reminding her of the perpetual darkness of the unknown. She set her toothbrush down, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to push back the negative thoughts. She told herself over and over again that everything was going to be okay, but after she had lived to tell the horror of the Mansion Incident only to have it refuted, the word 'okay' no longer had any meaning to her. But, she needed something to calm her frazzled nerves, even if were just a silly voice reassuring her, painting her a false reality of the actual situation at hand.

Rebecca went back to her room, retrieving her Bravo uniform resting at the foot of her bed. She had been given many duplicates of her uniform so a fresh one was usually awaiting her everyday, though during the last few days, she hadn't been keeping up with her laundry. The hellish memories and the ample load of stress distracted her from the things she loved doing, even if some of them were boring (to most people) chores. She had always derived some sense of pleasure from the most trivial and dull activities, studying the smallest details that most people would just overlook. The soapy bubbles from her laundry works would always project tiny rainbows, its colors spreading through the water, the notion of refraction taking place. What appeared to be a beautiful enigma to others was no mystery to her, and she'd enjoy lecturing any laundry-doers about the not so complicated process of how a rainbow was formed given that the laundry-doer, with the exception of herself, actually gave a damn.

She quickly slipped out of her white robe and pulled on her previously worn uniform, her fingers working quickly to adjust the straps, fasten the buttons and clasps. It was something she did every morning for the past few months, and she'd have no problems putting on the uniform with her eyes closed if she had to, the procedure of the dressing mentally ingrained. Judging from the rain plastering against her window and the mild swaying of the trees outside her apartment, she figured it was probably cold outside. Her normal denim jacket would probably not be enough to shield her from the cold today so she selected a light leather jacket from her closet. She slipped easily into the comfortable, brown jacket, the outerwear a bit loose for her. Even on days that were hot, she'd found herself wanting to wear a jacket just to cover the S.T.A.R.S. logo emblazoned on her uniform. It was something she was supposed to be proud of, something that defined her accomplishment and competence as a field medic, but due to the recent distasteful rumors being passed about S.T.A.R.S., she felt uncomfortable revealing her identity as one of "those idiots who had probably taken drugs and hallucinated the zombies and ghouls."

The teen couldn't help but wonder what new, nasty rumors she was going to hear on her way to work, and worse, during work. While the remaining S.T.A.R.S. received respect from some of their RPD co-workers, especially senior officer, Marvin Branagh, most of the police officers ridiculed them.

"You'll find out once you get there," she told her self, letting out a shallow sigh as she reached for her umbrella.

There was still one more thing she needed to bring with her to work.

With slow, tentative footsteps, she made her way to her desk and picked up a manila envelope with a shaky hand. The envelope itself didn't bother her, but the contents inside did. It was enough to make her feel a bit lightheaded, the nervousness eating at her inside out. "Breathe…" she reminded herself as she tucked the envelope safely into the inner pocket of her leather jacket, protecting it from the wetness outside. She patted the open flap of her jacket against her chest, heard the sound of the envelope crushing softly against her, and decided that it was now or never.

Before exiting her room, she turned to face her stuffed bunny, Snowball, lying against her pillow. It had been given to her as a present for her eleventh birthday by her parents, who had stated that it was a "lucky bunny" that would bring her good fortune in times she needed it the most. It was a small thing, about the size of a book, with long pointy ears and fur as white as snow despite the fact that she'd had the plush for more than seven years. Rebecca was always careful with thing she cherished, and perhaps that was why she was so tense at the moment. The toy looked back at her with wide eyes and a small smile. She smiled back before doing something silly and childish- something that corny, 'ol Rebecca would do.

She raced toward the animal and hastily rubbed her thumb against its paw, silently asking for luck to be on her side; she needed it today more than ever.

And then she was out of her apartment, headed for work, headed for the unknown.

* * *

Rebecca stood proud and tall, back straight, eyes fixed directly into her superior's dark slits. Inside, she was restless, all the nerves bouncing off her inner walls, waging a war that she could not quell. Outside, she was cool and collected, more composed than still leaves on a breeze-less, summer night. With steady steps, she walked toward the Chief's desk and retrieved the envelope from her jacket pocket, being careful to not get the object wet. She had gotten wet in the rain despite bringing a big umbrella, and had believed it to be a terrible omen. Now, she was about to find out for certain.

"Chief." She cleared her throat, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat before she continued, "I have the report ready for you…the one regarding Billy Coen, the…convict." She detected a small pause in her voice and prayed that Irons had not heard it. Knowing that Billy was an innocent man, it pained her to refer to him as a convict, an undeserving title for such an honorable man.

"Chambers…" Iron drawled, beckoning the woman to step closer with a wave of his hand. He reached out and hastily snatched the file out of her hand, a rude gesture, but not unseen by Rebecca. Unaffected by his discourteous manner, she added, "Along with the coroner report of Billy Coen, I've also filled out my report regarding the derailment of the Ecliptic Express and the incident at the Arklay Research Facility."

Irons flipped through the papers with his chubby fingers, his eyes flitting side to side as he hastily scanned the contents, not particularly interested in certain information. As he relaxed further into his leather seat, Rebecca couldn't help but notice the bulge of fat spilling from the waistband of his trousers. It was a revolting sight, made worse by the expensive looking chocolate pastry beside his unfinished cigar that screamed gluttony; they were probably the main contributor to his recent, rapid weight gain as well. She also caught sight of two strange figures sitting on his desk; it appeared to be expensive looking paperweights. It was difficult to see what the shapes of the paperweights were at her angle, but the smooth, shiny surface of the marble layers were enough for Rebecca to realize that Irons must have spent a good portion of his paycheck on them. She hadn't known that he was quite the connoisseur of fine arts. Perhaps these were recent purchases?

In fact, she noticed many new additions to his room since the last time she'd been in his office. Behind his mahogany desk was a portrait of an awkward looking design made up of various colorful streaks that seemed bring out the red of the plush carpeting. There were also two statues in the corner, both of them resembling some odd animals that Rebecca couldn't identify, but they certainly gave her the creeps. They _looked _like birds, but she had never seen birds that looked that vulgar. In their eye sockets, there were bright red jewels, making the 'birds' appear more menacing than they should.

She came to the simple conclusion that she was desperately trying to find anything to distract herself. Since it was too late to reel back to the comfort of her room and Snowball and too soon to jump to the end of this little meeting, she had no choice but to make the best of her dilemma. She was now truly stuck between the two extremes in time, and despite the seconds passing by quicker than she'd expected, she didn't feel that she was nearing the end of her torment. The medic could feel her charged nerves itching against her skin, pricking her, waiting to be released so they could get their moment of reprieve. God, she wished she could grant their request for she knew exactly what they were going through.

Rebecca held her breath, the pungent smell of body odor suddenly making its way toward her nose. She noticed that Irons was sweating profusely, the perspiration staining his blue polo and gray pants. _As if this can't get any worse! _

"Chambers, so this Coen…convict is truly dead now?" The words flowed unevenly through his bloated lips.

Rebecca could feel the muscles in her face tighten. She folded one hand over the other behind her back, squeezing her fist hard as she maintained her best game face. _Crap…he didn't sound convinced. What if he's catching on! _"Yes," she confirmed strongly, despite how she truly felt. She didn't even realize that she was digging her nails into her own flesh, the tempo of her heart fast like beats from battle drums. "His body was found along with the corpse of two MPs, a few feet away from the overturned transport vehicle. We couldn't retrieve his body due to the separation of the Bravo team and the attacks from those mutated dogs we told you about…" she trailed off, losing her voice, preparing to hear a scoff from Irons, but it never came.

"Shit…well, at least we know he's dead. The world is now one notch safer without Coen around." He picked up his cigar and blew out a puff of smoke. His leather seat creaked as he bent forward, slapping the file down hard on his desk. "You got any evidence at all?"

Rebecca couldn't believe the irony of the situation. _You have no right to even suggest that the world is better with Coen around when you don't give a damn about Umbrella had done…and what they will probably continue to do. _Her stomach turned. She felt disgusted and this time, it wasn't because of his repulsive presentation of himself, though his surface was a pretty accurate reflection of whom he was inside. It took great effort and self-control to not argue back, reassuring herself that Umbrella's production of biological weapons would be ferreted out in due time. Chris and Barry were taking care of that at the moment. Right now, she needed to take care of _her _business. Reaching for her neck, she slowly pulled out the chain of dog tags to full view, producing the proof Irons needed to erase any suspicions of the case. Though the two plates felt light in her palm, she felt like she was holding a tremendous weight dripping with an entire man's essence, Billy's core. "Retrieved this from his dead body. There wasn't anything else on him, and if there were, it'd probably perished."

She was moving her hands toward the nape of her neck, preparing to regretfully unfasten the chain when Iron raised a hand, halting her.

"No need. You should hold on to it. It's good to know that he's off the face of this planet. Right now, we're more concerned about Umbrella. Even some local cases have taken a back seat at the moment." Irons quickly scanned over the second portion of the report, nodding to himself in approval.

Rebecca blinked, beyond surprised that Irons had accepted her story. In addition, he even seemed interested in investigating Umbrella. She almost felt guilty for thinking ill about him just a few minutes ago, wishing she hadn't been so rash with her thoughts. Maybe Chris, Jill, Brad, and Barry had finally gotten through to him. "You mean…you believe our story?"

"I'll admit it's quite farfetched, but it can't hurt to look more into it," Irons stated logically, sounding like a leader for the first time.

"T-thank you, sir…" Rebecca whispered, still in great disbelief at how the bleak situation turned out. She could feel her heartbeat returning to normal, the thuds no longer pounding against her chest, and she no longer felt as if the dog tags were shaking from the tremor behind her flesh.

"Thank you for your insightful report, Chambers. You're not bad for a rookie," Irons said with a small smile, whether it was true or genuine, she didn't know.

Rebecca grinned back. This was the first time Irons had smiled at her, and though it seemed sincere, she still couldn't help but wonder if there was something she wasn't catching on to. Was there a hidden motive, a hidden intention behind his kind words? She remembered the unanimous distrust towards Irons from Jill, Barry, and Chris, and with that reminder, she knew that she should not let her guard down—never again after that horrible night. "Thanks," Rebecca replied with a salute to display her respect, or mock respect. If Irons was putting on an act, she would to.

"Well, I won't keep you from your work. You're free to go," the Chief dismissed with a wave of his hand. He exhaled another puff, the smoky rings fading into the warm air.

"If you need anything else, please let me know," she said. Giving a final nod, her shoulders sagged in relief as she turned to make her way out the door, out of oblivion. She had survived the unknown and fate had let her leave with everything she'd wanted. _Snowball deserves a carrot tonight_, she thought, amused. Everything had gone smoothly, right? Then why, as she closed the door behind her, did she feel as if she had just sealed herself in a terrible, inconceivable trial? She turned around cautiously, stared at the door for a few seconds before purging her paranoia. "I'm probably just tired," she told herself, the words not really offering her solace.

* * *

Brian Irons rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he took another look at the reports, particularly the one concerning Billy Coen. He didn't give a shit about the one pertaining to the train derailment and the Arklay Research Facility. In fact, it was his job to destroy it. He already had his hands on the Alpha's report on the Spencer Mansion thanks to Mr. Barry Burton, who had shown up at his office three days ago to personally deliver it with the most constipated face Irons had ever seen. Now, he'd make sure that there would be no more proof of any of Umbrella's dirty work. _One more report, one more beautiful paycheck. _He chuckled softly, blowing out another ring of smoke as he inclined into his seat, satisfied and proud of what he'd accomplished thus far, of what he had just deducted moments ago.

Brian Irons may seem like a dolt to others, especially to his co-workers, but oh, he was so much more intelligent than his little minions.

Yes, he had seen the nervous look in the youth's eyes when she presented him the case files, the way her brilliant emerald orbs flashed with a trace of fury when he'd referred to Coen as a convict. He'd detected the hesitation in her voice when she spoke and had almost tasted the sickeningly sweet _passion _she had for Coen. She was young, naïve, and too easy to read, possessing all signs of someone who was trying desperately to _hide_ a dark secret.

_Stupid, stupid girl…_

In this case, Irons knew what that secret was. His mouth widened into a conspiratorial smile, the thought of receiving a bonus paycheck was really making his morning.

He reached for his phone, dialed the numbers he knew by heart, and waited for the person on the other line to answer.

* * *

A/N: I want to thank all the readers for their lovely and thoughtful reviews! You know who you are! There's much more to come! Til next time!


	5. Chapter 5

Chained

Rebecca placed both hands against her hot cup of coffee, closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth radiating from the mug. She wasn't interested in the beverage itself; she wasn't a huge fan of coffee, but she needed desperately to hold on to something to still her uneasy hands, hands that were cold and trembling after leaving Irons's office. She stood in the hall, outside the S.T.A.R.S. office, too distracted to focus on her work. She had tried to finish her load of assignments, but her mind kept drifting back to her meeting with Irons. The more she had thought about it, the more her body felt limp and weak. Finally, she had decided to take a small break and go into the cafeteria to grab something warm to soothe her.

Unconsciously tapping a foot against the wooden floor, she scanned both sides of the hall with weary eyes, waiting for a familiar face to show up. She had gotten to work earlier than the others, particularly because she'd thought she was going to spend much more than five minutes in Irons's office. There was just something about his twisted smile, the wicked look in his eyes that made their brief encounter…scarier in ways she hadn't thought possible. Clanking her fingernails against the mug, she continued to wait for Jill. Perhaps speaking her mind would help her; it had last time.

She felt another chilled shiver run down her spine, but this time, it was for an entirely different reason. She hadn't forgotten that she had stepped into the room that felt so foreign to her, a room that she have made her felt like she was home with friends and family, the people who mattered most to her. Being near the desks that would never be occupied her comrades tore the yawning gap within her heart wider, rupturing the stitches of whatever little healing she had managed to accomplish in the past few days. Some of her dead friends' personal belongings had been cleared. She remembered Enrico's wife dropping by to collect her husband's pictures, small trinkets, a few books, whatever little items she could collect for they were her only link to the ghost of the once strong and respected Enrico. In her head, she could still hear the widow's cries reverberating throughout the hollow office, soft and tender to oblivious ears, but loud to those who were truly listening. And to Rebecca, they sounded like screams of uncontrollable anguish, like a hopeless child never able to get what he wanted the most.

Trying to be strong and not break down while working in the S.T.A.R.S. office had been extremely difficult, but she reminded herself that everything she, Barry, Jill, and Chris were doing now were for the lost souls. _The lost souls and one living…_she reminded herself, and that thought didn't bring her any joy. Even against the support of the wall, she felt herself slipping, felt her legs becoming rubber at the idea she may have brought Billy more harm than help.

She looked down the hall, anxiously waiting for Jill to show up. The rain was still harshly pounding against the old panes, the quick _tat tat tat _racing with her heart, though the latter was winning the little race. She watched as the dark clouds rolled together, banishing whatever little sunlight that had beamed through the windows. The black vortex outside reminded her of the little 'unknown' territory in her mind, and she couldn't help but feel that it had somehow materialized outside her mind.

"Rebecca?"

A voice, the voice she had been waiting to hear, knocked her out of her dim muses. "Jill!" she exclaimed a bit too happily and loud, but she didn't care. She saw the older woman race up to her, a broken umbrella in one hand and a wet raincoat in the other. She was wearing her traditional S.T.A.R.S. uniform, the beret barely attached to her head.

"You're here early," she noted. "Everything went okay?"

"I-…I'm not sure," Rebecca said quietly, shaking her head as if to make sense of the most senseless feelings.

"What do you mean?" Jill asked just as softly. She crossed her hands across her chest, and though her brown strands of hair were dripping with cold water, she didn't even seem to notice. Everything seemed trivial at the moment, everything except that damned office she had to go into in a few minutes.

"Well, I handed Irons the reports…and he accepted it, just like that." She snapped her fingers, emphasizing how quick Irons had taken her word without much questioning.

"He's not suspicious…right?" Jill's fingers tightened around the handle of the umbrella.

"Well, that's how I thought at first, but after leaving his office…I felt a really strange sensation. The more I thought about it, the more twisted and…evil it all seemed."

Jill frowned. "Were you aware of how he reacted when you handed him the reports? His words, facial expressions?" The more she studied Rebecca's face, the more disapproving she looked.

"He was polite and even complimented me on my skills…but it just felt so strange. It felt like he didn't mean what he said…it…it felt like a façade," Rebecca answered tiredly, too tired to think back to something that had only occurred about half an hour ago. She was too exhausted to recall the exact details of their little meeting, but she certainly _felt _unnerved after leaving his office and the feeling had stuck with her since. She had woken up extra early this morning, barely getting any sleep anyway throughout the night, and though the bitter and sweet scent of coffee was tickling her nose, telling her to drink it to stay more awake, she couldn't for the fact that she disliked the taste of the drink. She had to face it; she was going to be a zombie throughout the day. Normally, she would have found some humor in that image, but not now, and never later on. Instead, it brought her a flood of grief, anger, helplessness, fear, and other emotions she wasn't too keen on picking out at the moment.

"Maybe you're just thinking too much into this," Jill replied. She placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "You look so tired…I'm not saying all this is in your head, but maybe after some good rest, you'll think more clearly?"

Rebecca looked at the hand and gave a small grin. "Maybe…I do feel like crap."

"Think of it this way. What's the worse Irons can do if he didn't buy your story? It's not like he'll know where to look for Billy right now or have any connections to Umbrella regarding Billy. You said Billy was an Ex-Marine and I doubt they are affiliated with Umbrella. I'm sure Irons has enough trouble on his own plate right now with the city and RPD in a complete mess due to the so-called rumors about the zombies and biological weapons."

Perhaps Jill was right. Perhaps she was thinking too much into something that might be all right, but she just couldn't settle for 'might,' not when it came to Billy. She wanted to badly to _know _that things were going to be okay, but these days, it seemed whatever she wanted was always out of reach. She had only been robbed, never given. "Maybe. I just hope that he'll be all right, and you too, Jill, now that you know my secret." She didn't know what she would do if she ended up endangering her friend, inadvertently making her an accomplice in some sense.

The Alpha leaned forward and smoothed a chunk of Rebecca's messy hair. "I'll be okay. I don't think anyone will find out, but they might if we keep talking about this," she said with a small wink.

Rebecca let out a deep sigh, knowing that she was right about how they shouldn't be discussing this matter right now. More importantly, she knew Jill was trying to get her mind off the stressful matter. "Yeah, you're right."

"I take it you don't like coffee very much?" Jill nudged her chin toward the full cup of coffee in Rebecca's hand, a tiny smile playing across her full, curvy lips.

Rebecca shook her head and let out a small laugh. Even in the most serious of times, Jill could always manage to brighten things, whether it was a simple smile that radiated much comfort or the smooth words that flowed out of her mouth, soft, meaningful words. She always knew what to say. "Heh, no…I don't."

The older woman laughed, too. "Why did you get it then?"

Rebecca blushed. "I wanted tea but since I forgot my wallet at home, whatever change I had in my jacket was only enough for coffee. Real competent of me, huh?"

Jill nodded in understanding. "It happens," Jill replied coolly, the friendly expression on her face still apparent and warm. She gently took the cup from her friend's hands and took a sip of the beverage. "Hot and no sugar, just the way I like it. I heard lemon tea with honey really soothes you. Come on, I'll get you one downstairs. Just let me drop off my things in the office…"

Rebecca had heard it too, the way Jill's voice trailed off, almost not finishing her sentence. Both women stared into the office, and as lively as it looked with computers, books, guns, papers, random paraphernalia strewn all over, it couldn't have felt emptier to the two officers. It wasn't their first time back in the office since the day they had left, but God knew that every time they walked it, it felt like they were walking into the office for the first time since the teams' deaths. The gaping emptiness, the way their voices would carry throughout the hollow room, the memories that lingered…well, enough was said, and perhaps it was better to not say anything at all. No words, no cries could bring them back. It was the simple truth, but the hardest part was accepting it as the truth. Though it had only been two weeks since the infamously dubbed 'Mansion Incident,' to the survivors, it felt like two decades. The days felt longer than just days, dragging on as if they defied the existence of time.

"Have you seen Brad?" Rebecca asked, hoping to break the invisible weight of tension.

"He comes in and out whenever he wishes. Chris tried to speak to him…but no one has seen him since the day of the memorial service. He probably left town…probably need a break from all of this." Jill cast a glance at Brad's desk and noticed that it was relatively sparse compared to the others. "Perhaps Chickenheart really did decide to leave, but at the rate things are going, I can't blame him too much."

"I see…" Rebecca didn't know him that well, but she had heard stories about him from some men on the Bravo team. They had constantly made fun of him, some jokes too cruel and explicit for her liking. "I hope he comes back…it feels so lonely here," she whispered.

"Hey, you still have me, Chris, and Barry to keep you company," Jill chided softly.

"I'm glad I have you guys with me, or else I'd be so lost…just drifting." She watched Jill set her belongings down next to her desk. After the Mansion Incident, Rebecca had the opportunity to pick whatever workspace she wanted and since the day she went to Emmy's with Jill, the companionship between the two women grew, the trust and comfort they fed off each other keeping them closer than what years of ordinary friendship could ever bring. Naturally, she wanted to work next to Jill.

"Hey, things are going to be fine," Jill said in a firm tone, not just to comfort Rebecca, but to her convince herself as well. "Come on, let's go get that tea for you." They needed a change of subject and change of environment.

"Thank you. I'll treat you next time," Rebecca said sincerely, but the older woman dismissed her courteous comment with a brief wave of her hand.

"Ha, don't worry about it!" Jill exclaimed, sounding like an older sister.

They had bonded well and shared a link of friendship, of family; in some strange sense, Rebecca liked the idea of having someone like Jill as an older sister figure. The Mansion Incident had caused a huge rift, but at the same time, it had brought together a great unity that Rebecca thought she would never be able to experience again after parting from her family. In a way, Barry, Chris, and Jill were her family now, and it felt good to know she wasn't fighting alone.

Before she had the chance to shake away the depressing thoughts, the office door opened and closed. "Chris," Jill breathed, eyes wide and searching for an explanation as to why he wore the look of anger and despair on his face. She looked down and found that he was holding something in his hand—a newspaper.

"What is it…?" Rebecca asked slowly, already having a good feeling what he was going to say and show. She saw the way the two Alphas' eyes locked with each other, transmitted a silent message, which Chris confirmed with a nod of his head.

He laid the newspaper out for the two women to see, the headline explaining what he was so upset about much better than what he could vocalize.

* * *

Billy Coen set the newspaper down with a bit too much force, causing the weak wooden table beneath his hands to tremble with the coiling rage within him. He flipped the newspaper over, couldn't bear to re-read the article again. He felt revolted and angry, and he was usually one to keep his cool, his feelings in check. There had only been two times in his life when he had felt this disgusted, but this time, it was a bit more personal.

Glancing out the window of the small cabin, he watched the relentless rain pour. That was all he could do at the moment—watch and wait, and he hated not being able to take any action. Standing idly was killing him, but he knew for now, there was nothing he could do, at least not until he sorted some things out. Right after he had parted with Rebecca, he took off into the forest and kept running without looking back. The problem was that he had ran without direction, without a purpose other than to start his life over again, but that was much easier said than done. He had no friends, no families, no connections, nothing. He was alone in this world and not for the first time, he truly felt insignificant. But then, he had thought about Rebecca and their narrow escape from the Umbrella Research Facility, and was reminded that they had fought so hard to live, just to savor the chance to breathe again. In some twisted and wicked way, she reminded him how precious life could be and that it was something he shouldn't readily throw away, not when they had seen all those monsters who had once been people. _They _had succumbed to the T-virus against their will, lost their freedom and life all at once, but Billy hadn't.

_And that's why you shouldn't be thinking about how worthless your life is. Pull yourself together and do SOMETHING, _his mind screamed. "But there's not a damn thing I can do," he yelled aloud, countering the annoying voice in his head. This was the most frustrating thing he had ever been through. Maybe he should have just went with his initial gut instinct to leave town, and then he wouldn't have known any of this, feel any of the unsettling feelings he had no cure for. A few miles or so and he would have been out of Raccoon City, probably would have found a random car and hot-wired it, driving off to any place but here. He heard Florida was nice this time of the year. The chances of that occurring were probable. After all, he had found this abandoned little cabin he was residing in at the moment. It could have been someone's resort home, though he doubted anyone would want one stuck in the middle of nowhere. It was too tiny anyway—a one story building with a single bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and an unfurnished kitchen connected to the bare living space. It was probably an old abandoned building, the ones you'd hear about in scary stories over a campfire. Well, all the better for him. No one should be searching it, especially when it was shrouded in dark shrubs the size of miniature trees.

Yes, he should have just left, but he couldn't. His heart and morals dominated over what he felt was best for him. Billy let out a bitter chuckle. All his life, he seemed to have put his own best interest aside, always doing what's best for others than for himself. It was an endearing quality, but one that had screwed him over in the past. Yet, he couldn't pull himself away from it. It made him _him,_ and without it, he wouldn't know who he was anymore. And right now, he desperately needed to be reminded who he was in the midst of his little identity crisis. Soon, the world would know of Billy Coen, and just as quickly, they'd forget him, believing that the dangerous and infamous Coen was dead. It was sad, really. No one would know of his legacy, all the good he had tried to do.

No one except one special person he had met on that fateful night when nothing would ever be the same again afterward.

As silly and stupid it may sound, even to himself, Rebecca Chambers was the only person he could truly call a 'friend.' True, he found her annoying and distracting at first, but there had been something about her that had attracted him from the beginning, instilling a sense of duty within him to protect her. He couldn't quite capture what it was about her that made him want to ensure she made it out of this nightmare, even if it had to cost him his own life. Maybe it was her youth, charm, innocence? Maybe. She was everything he wasn't—pure, untainted, and ultimately, just a child thrown into a hell that she shouldn't have even have _heard _of, never mind actually living through it. She was intelligent and beautiful, had a bright future, a shining road ahead of her. It was this beauty, the tolerable flaws and the perfection worth emulating that made him want to protect her, to ensure that she'd continue thrive in this decaying world. And maybe one day, there'd be more people like her in the world. There'd be no pain and fear. It had been an impractical and impossible dream of his when he was a child, but what's life without dreams, right?

_Rebecca…she had it all, and now this…. _And that was what upset him. That a future someone had worked so hard for could be ruined by a slew of lies, by Umbrella. Umbrella had already ruined him and he'd be damned if he let it happened again to someone who didn't deserve any of this bullshit.

_She tried her hardest to protect me, freeing me. Perhaps I did make the right decision by staying behind. _No, there was no question about it. Deep down, Billy knew for a fact that he had done the right thing by staying behind. The only problem was that he couldn't _do _anything, and now that things were seriously getting out of hand, he felt more helpless than ever.

The newspaper article mentioned something about a mansion exploding; most likely the same one Rebecca was heading to after they went their separate ways. Maybe he should have turned around then and there, should have gone to the mansion with her to assist her and the other S.T.A.R.S. members. He had seen the horrors of Umbrella's creation in the research facility, and after surviving through that nightmare, there wasn't anything that he wasn't prepared for. He remembered the sheer terror that made his heart freeze in a vise-like grip when he saw the words: _Nearly all the S.T.A.R.S. members were annihilated in the explosion of the mansion save for a few lucky ones who are most likely responsible for the accident. _The article went on listing the names of the survivors, and when he saw hers, he was filled with a wave of intense relief he never knew could exist.

_She's all right for now, but for how much longer?_

He thought back to the headline of the newspaper: _Incompetent and Careless S.T.A.R.S. Members Responsible for Multiple Deaths. Experts Suspect That Heavy Drug and Alcohol Usage Was Involved._ Apparently, the so-called 'Mansion Incident' was the new hot topic in the papers, the articles no doubt manipulated by Umbrella.

"The bastards are trying to cover up their experiments and they're using S.T.A.R.S. as the scapegoats," he said to himself thoughtfully, although that realization had already come to him. He had heard about these experiments, the viruses used to create biological weapons long before he had met Rebecca and gone through Umbrella's private train and research facility, but he hadn't believed it then. And when he saw the true creations with his own eyes, he knew that the young girl he had met in Africa wasn't joking, or as he had told her, 'seeing things.'

He felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine at the thought of his days in Africa. He still had nightmares about it, the cruel demons of his past refusing to let him rest in peace.

"Whatever…" he said coldly, forcing his past out of his mind. It didn't matter now. It had occurred, the damage had been done, and now he was still paying the price for his gullibility. What he needed to do now was _somehow _find a way to help Rebecca. The last thing he wanted was to see her ending up like him, a poor and pitiful bastard constantly on the run for his life. Umbrella was after him; he knew too much, and they were soon going to be after her, too. Goddamn, he wouldn't let that happen to her.

Billy had never been a religious person and after the hell he had been put through, he was sure there was no God. Still, false faith was better than no faith, and all he could do now was send a silent prayer to any deity who still had mercy to spare, who would listen to desperate plea, which in any other circumstances, he wouldn't even bother wasting his time. But this was different. It was better than sitting around and doing nothing.

It was something, and it was all he could do at the moment besides listening to the rhythmic beats of the rain that did not put him at ease.

* * *

A/N: Yes! Billy is finally here! Once again, thanks again for all the reviews and support. New chapters may be a bit slower now because I'm in school again but they'll still be coming. Much thanks to all the readers and reviewers!


	6. Chapter 6

The Hunt Begins

Inside a small coffee shop during the busiest business hour of Raccoon City, a middle-aged man sipped his tea heartily, his mind and spirit calm, a contrast to the great thunderstorm taking place outside the glass windows. The rain pounded furiously against the glass, wanting to be let in, wanting to drench him and wipe that smug look off his face. Samuel Regan smiled wider. Like the droplets of water, there had been some people in his past that wanted to get to him, tear him limb by limb among other gruesome actions he felt he shouldn't elaborate for that didn't matter now. They were all gone, maybe except for one.

Regan unbuttoned the collar of his navy, military trench coat, the gold buttons easily disengaging from the button holes, granting him the much needed cool air against his warm throat. Much better. His dark eyes roved about the coffee shop. There were a few customers here and there, scattered about the small sanctuary on a rainy, Tuesday afternoon in Raccoon City. No one in particular caught his attention, not even the few sultry women walking about in their business attires, their pencil skirts clinging to their forms, blouses tightly buttoned over their curvaceous bodies. They were a pleasant sight to the eyes, but Regan had a feeling that their beauty was going to be short-lived once Fate's wheel turned.

He knew about the incident at Spencer's mansion and the secret research facility buried in the mass of the Arklay Woods, and unlike the oblivious and moronic residents of Raccoon City, he knew that the S.T.A.R.S. members were telling the truth. Though he hadn't actually seen the monsters they'd mentioned, he had seen enough laboratories and knew that behind the white walls was a secret that was beyond mankind's imagination. He didn't need to see the creatures, and quite frankly, he didn't want to either. He was more than content with just physically guarding Umbrella's secret under the guise of Commander of the Dunell Marine Base. To him, there was nothing more important in the world than power. The majority of his life had been built upon that element, which had helped him get to where he was now. Without power, he wouldn't have the authority to control an entire marine base, which meant he would be off of Umbrella's payroll. Without Umbrella's paychecks, he would be nothing, be nowhere. It was a vicious circle, his circle of life.

Regan combed a hand through his slicked, brown hair, taking another sip of his tea as he gazed out the window with empty eyes, a solemn expression plastered on his aged face. He hadn't expected to spend his vacation sitting in a dull coffee shop on rainy day in Raccoon City. He should be off somewhere on an isolated island, sipping coconut juice beside the shorelines where the deep, blue waves played about. He chuckled bitterly at the image, inhaled sharply as images of his mind reeled, bringing him back to the days when he was a child. Oh, what he would have given back then just for a slice of apple. He had lost both his parents at a young age and had to endure the hardships of life that no teenager should ever have to cope with, subsisting on whatever scraps he could find on the cold, unforgiving streets, withstanding the heartless glares from strangers. Though this bred an unsurpassed strength within him, it had also bred an unchecked anger that matched his might. He had come to hate the world that had robbed him of everything, the world that spawned evil hearts that only knew of greed, only knew of taking and not giving.

They had taken away his parents and the only home he had. A simple gun, produced through technology by mankind, had taken away his family and all the goodness within him in a blink of an eye, leaving him suspended between the frail line that separated dream and reality. He'd landed on the latter part of the spectrum; the nightmare real to him as the fiery rage scorching inside of him. His parents were good and honest people, hardworking and loyal, and then some bastards had to take their lives because were too lazy to earn fifty dollars through something called a fucking job.

Regan bit his lower lip hard, drawing enough blood until he could taste the metallic substance. Though he had a new family now, he was still very much alone on this diseased planet. After his parents had left the festering world, he had kept to himself, relied on himself, promising himself that he would seek revenge on the pathetic humanity. Luckily for him, there had been someone who shared his view, his passion to see the world reborn.

And for that to happen, this world would have to be erased. In the new paradise, there would be equality and order, and he would rule alongside the man who had given him back everything he'd lost. Regan would give his life for Ozwell E. Spencer for without him, he would have no life right now. Ozwell had seen his power, persistence, and perhaps it was a mix of pity and admiration on Ozwell's part that had decided it for him to take Regan in. Whatever Spencer's reasons were, Regan knew that they didn't matter now. He would help the founder of Umbrella carry out his plan that would plant the seeds for a new world, a world that knows only obedience.

A small vibrating motion knocked him out of his pensive thoughts. Reaching into his breast pocket, he retrieved his phone, expecting to find Umbrella on the other line, but his expectation was immediately quashed when he saw that the phone showed a number of an old friend he'd met a few years ago.

"What brings you to call me today?" Regan answered with a chuckle, didn't see the need to formally greet someone he was rather well aquatinted with.

"_Got some juicy news for ya," the voice greeted merrily._

Regan raised a brow. He was always in the mood for any 'juicy' story granted that they were not stupid gossips. "Well Irons, don't stop there. You've got my attention," he said, his good-humored voice suddenly turning serious. It didn't sound like Irons was calling him to 'catch up' or have some small chit-chat.

_"Does the name Coen sound familiar to you? Billy Coen?" _

Regan stiffened for a moment at the sound of that name. The owner of that name had not only almost destroyed his life and the reputation he had built for himself over the years, but he had almost destroyed him and exposed Umbrella's darkest secrets, the ones he should be protecting. For a few brief seconds, Regan thought back to the days of the Marine Corps. Though it had only been two months since he had Billy court-martialed and sentenced to death, it felt like it had been an eternity ago, the pages of history out of his grasp. Though Regan never got along with Billy, there had been a mutual respect between the two soldiers nonetheless. Regan admired Billy's prowess, confidence, and his ability to perform as a well-trained soldier, but the idolization stopped there. If only Billy hadn't found out what he wasn't supposed to know and carried out his orders to destroy that village in Africa—well, there was no point in reminiscing about that now. Billy had failed to comply and as a result, he had to pay the consequences. _Or did he?_

Regan frowned, the sinking realization that Billy may be alive after he'd heard that the transport vehicle had been mauled in the Arklay forest had been growing within him, and now, he had a feeling that this sudden call from Irons had something to do with the missing Second Lieutenant. Billy Coen should have been executed by now, but Regan had learned that the man had never made it to the execution site. Perhaps he had perished during the destruction of the transport vehicle, or maybe the living dead in the forest got to him. Regan hoped, but he knew that what Irons was about to tell him was going to banish any of his optimistic thoughts.

_"Hey, you there?" Irons asked impatiently, sounding only too eager to let out what he wanted to say._

"Sorry, go on," Regan replied curtly, mentally shaking away any thoughts that may distract him. "What about Billy Coen?"

_"Ha! Just found out that he's alive."_

So he had been right after all.

_"I think he knows a lot more than he should. One of the S.T.A.R.S. members, Rebecca Chambers, seems to be protecting him. She went through the Arklay Research Facility and I think she had a little assistance. I know for a fact that the rookie couldn't have made it out of that place by herself, not when the rest of the seasoned Bravo team were all eliminated. I think Billy Coen was with her that night." _

Regan coolly took a sip of his tea, rather unfazed at the news thought he had expected it to make him…angry. Instead, he felt calm, serene, and almost deliriously pleased that he would have the chance to redeem his mistake of letting those two stupid MPs escort Coen to his execution site. He would take this opportunity to atone for his foolish lapse in judgment, and he would make sure that the 'convict' would be punished this time, his humiliation and defeat broadcasted for the world to witness. Capturing Coen would refine Umbrella's name, the least he could do for the company that had given him everything and more. Regan grinned, thinking about how the world would have a newfound respect for Umbrella, the leading pharmaceutical company for finding new cures and treatments now bringing a concoction of justice! It sounded too perfect.

"I'm on it."

_"When we get that large paycheck from Umbrella for this, we're gonna go out and have a nice drink!"_

Regan shook his head. Unlike Irons, he wasn't obsessed with money. Money was always nice to have and he thrived on it now, but it wasn't his sole motivation to work for Umbrella. He had lived off of garbage and leftovers for a good amount of time as a child, and now, he could certainly make do without a few hundred thousand dollars. What he wanted more than anything was revenge, sweet revenge on mankind that had cruelly taken all the humanity left in him. With Umbrella and Spencer, he could achieve that dream. "Oh Irons, you haven't changed over the years I've known you. Greedy as always," he said with a natural laugh.

_"And this is coming from someone who's hungry for power. You shouldn't be talking," Irons bellowed, his voice deep. _

Perhaps he was right. They were both greedy, but for different things-understandable since they had and led different lives. "I'm on it," Regan said again, wanting to conclude the little conversation. It looked as if he had just been given an indirect side mission. Umbrella had sent him to monitor Raccoon City, make sure that the incident in the forest remained low-key, and eliminate any S.T.A.R.S. members if he had to, though he was advised not to do so unless he really needed to. Umbrella would seal their fate with something far worse than a bullet to their bright heads, already knowing that the remaining ST.A.R.S. survivors would most likely pursue them, perhaps even going as far as to raid the main headquarter. If Raccoon was lucky, the city would most likely be spared of the apocalypse that had occurred in the Arklay forest, but Regan couldn't shake away the unsettling certainty that Raccoon's demise was near, an imminent crisis that would annihilate the entire city. He knew that Umbrella was in the process of stealing the G-virus, attempting to take it by force from the unrelenting hands of Birkin and his wife and if—

He shook his head, clearing it of the dark gloom that flooded it. He shouldn't be worrying about the what ifs, but at the same time, the foreboding energy that Raccoon will see its last days very soon didn't sit well with him and neither would it for Umbrella. He couldn't let the world know of Umbrella's horrors, the secrets that had taken decades to come to fruition. _Which is why you should stop worrying about the future and just focus on your task at hand—protect Umbrella's image and make sure the city remains oblivious to what had occurred in the forest. And now, you have a new mission. Find Billy Coen, have him executed in Umbrella's name to boost the company's glory, and all the evil that he had been exposed to in Africa will be buried with his rotting corpse. Simple._

Billy had fought against him before he gave the court order to have him executed, and had lost, and now, Regan didn't think it was going to be any different this time. What had surprised just a bit was the fact that he had gotten away and had even gotten close to one of the S.T.A.R.S. members. Bad combination. "Enjoy your last moments of freedom, Coen," Regan muttered, snapping his phone shut in a quick motion, the flame of resolve unwavering in his dark eyes. He had an empire to protect.

* * *

A/N: Another update, yay! Samuel Regan, according to RE Zero and Umbrella Chronicles was the man who had Billy court-martialed and sentenced to death, therefore, he's not really an original character. I think the addition of him will make this story more interesting, especially since he had a history with Billy, and that's why I gave him some background here, which is all made up by me because there's not much about him from the games. So, just wanted to clear that up in case you've never heard of Samuel Regan. ^_^ I want to say thank you again to all the faithful readers! Reading your comments really make me happy, so thank you thank you thank you! I'm hitting the middle of the semester with school so updates may be a bit slower and chapters will be a little shorter. Nonetheless, the updates will still come!

By the way, I forgot to add this picture in the last chapter. I think it's an incredibly cute Jill/Rebecca pic and seeing this pic really helped me sculpt their friendship in the previous chapters.

Check it out: _media(dot)photobucket(dot)com/image/resident%20evil%20jill%20and%20rebecca/AikenRE/jill_and_rebecca__


	7. Chapter 7

Ladder of Descent

Rebecca felt lightheaded and was surprised she still remembered how to breathe as her eyes remained fixed on the paper. This couldn't be true. She had heard the rumors, the stupid gossips, but this was on a whole new level of madness. It was a whole new level of injustice and cruelty.

"What the hell…" Jill whispered, her usual fearless eyes teeming with worry and distress.

"Exactly my thought," Chris said. Out of the three, he seemed to be the most composed, probably because he had his sudden surprised exposure already. "This is the end of S.T.A.R.S….look at us, we're being made out to be drug abusers and alcoholics." He bit his tongue for fear that he was going to let loose a string of nasty curses that didn't really need to be heard at the moment.

As much as she wanted to, Rebecca still couldn't speak. As much as she wanted to voice her anger, no, _her rage_, she found her lips to be frozen in shock. All the good that they had done for people, the sacrifices they had made, the friends that had been taken from them…they were all for nothing. They were simply used as toys, for Umbrella's enjoyment and pleasure, all because they had tried to stop the company's plans. Suddenly, something snapped within her. Eyes wide and body full of strength she didn't knew existed within her, she felt a great surge of adrenaline rush pumping through her, propelling her legs out the door.

"Rebecca!" Jill yelled. "Where are you going!"

Rebecca heard footsteps behind her, thick and thudding, matching her heartbeat, but she didn't stop. She was red inside, bleeding, hurting from what she had just learned. The content in the paper was causing her so much pain that she was sure that no physical wound could ever match it. Ever since this morning, she had suspected and felt that something was incredibly wrong, and now knew her intuition was much more than just her wild imagination. Her heart painfully writhed, overtaken by regret. If only she had waited until Chris had showed up. It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes since she had left his office, but that was all it took to determine life or death for some people. The people she passed were no more than colorful blurred streaks to her, and it wasn't like she wanted to see their faces anyway. They were all faces of traitors, probably being sold out to Umbrella as she ran. Through the tears in her eyes, she made out the outline of his door. She was almost there, so close, when a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind.

"Rebecca!"

She heard Chris yell her name, but she wasn't going to comply. No, she was not going to be the good girl this time. It had gotten her nowhere in the past.

"Let go of me, Chris," she shrieked, pulling her arms away from his grasp.

Chris blinked but still secured his strength over her. He was taken back. No one had ever seen Rebecca this wild, forceful. It wasn't like her at all. It was usually he who threw the tantrum and got physical, not Rebecca. She was the rational one, the rational one the group could rely on to get them back in line.

If he wasn't going to release, fine. No one was going to get in her way of settling something personal. "I said LET GO!" Using all the energy she could muster within her battered and exhausted body from the struggle, she thrust her elbow into Chris's chest, causing him to fall back slightly into Jill. She turned around quickly to shoot him an apologetic look before she continued running. Her eyes were wet, her hair was a mess, and she no doubt looked like a madwoman but she didn't give a damn. The only thing she cared right now was giving Irons a good punch in the face. That man, the person they had all trusted to be their leader, was no better than Wesker. She couldn't believe how blind she had been all along. Back then, she had her doubts, but now, she could bet her life that Irons was behind all this. Umbrella couldn't have twisted all the truth into those lies. The story Umbrella had fabricated clearly had many parts that were reminiscent of their nightmare, and where could have they gotten this information other than from Irons, the man whom they had submitted their coroner reports to.

If she hadn't braked herself, she probably would have flew right through the door, and right now, that didn't seem like a bad idea, but she hadn't lost all her senses yet. She shook the knob violently, uselessly. The door was locked. "Open up, you fat coward!" she screamed, twisting the knob harder while ramming the side of her body against the door. "Open the hell up!"

She felt a firm hand on her shoulder, a feminine one, but ignored it. "Not now, Jill," she said in between gritted teeth.

If her banging wasn't going to get through to him, she'd have to kick the door down. She was small and petite, but the anger and adrenaline she was feeding off right now made her feel like she could take on the world if she had to. She threw her leg against the door and repeatedly smashed her boot against the wooden frame. She'd burn down the entire door if she had to, and the expensive piece of wood could rot in hell along with the Chief for all she cared. It was all starting to make sense now. The expensive items she had seen in his office—they were probably purchased from the paychecks he was getting from Umbrella for keeping S.T.A.R.S. under control, playing them for fools, playing them until each and of every one of the S.T.A.R.S. members was buried with Umbrella's darkest secrets.

Bastard.

She heard a click on the other side and the door flew open, her body nearly tumbling into the office from all the energy she had expended on trying to break down the door. Standing tall and firm, she walked up to Irons, who was standing next to his bookcase with a calm smirk on his face, a cigar between his thick lips.

"If you wanted to come inside, all you had to do was knock nicely."

Chris and Jill walked in quietly, Barry Burton right behind them. Barry must have somehow caught up to them and from the way his eyes narrowed intensively at Irons, Rebecca knew that he was up to date with everything.

Though they were silent, the demanding expressions on their faces told Irons that they weren't here for a nice chit-chat.

"Well geez, why don't I leave my office open for the entire RPD?" Irons snorted and walked back to his seat.

Rebecca stormed to his desk before he could reach his seat and plucked the cigar from his lips and tossed it at his face. "You tell me what the hell is going on here!"

Irons chuckled and watched the storm clouds from his window, unfazed by Rebecca's outburst. "What is wrong with all of you this morning? Did you spend last night partying, _drinking? _Kids these days."

"You sick freak…" Jill muttered as she stepped up to his desk, slamming the newspaper down in front of him. "You're behind this, aren't you!" She was starting to lose her temper, too.

Irons did not seem at all worked up by the ladies. They were fully armed, but he figured that if they wanted to kill him, they would have done so already. "Ms. Valentine, you're certainly not new to how law enforcement works. Nothing can be proven without evidence."

"All the evidence we need is in this room!" Chris spat. "Give us back the reports, now." His hands curled into fists, and if Irons wasn't going to willingly give them back the reports, he'd _make _him.

Barry moved to the left of the desk. With Rebecca and Jill on the right and Chris at the center, Irons was sealed in. But, he was hardly the intimidated animal they'd like him to be. Physically powerless and outnumbered, he still had a smug look on his bloated face. Deep down, Irons knew that he wasn't the one who was screwed. If they killed him right now, it would only confirm the paper's accusations that these S.T.A.R.S. members were highly aggressive and not just incompetent cops, but incompetent beings. He glared into each of their eyes slowly, the look he gave off clearly saying, "I have won. There's nothing you can do about this.

"I no longer have them," Irons stated simply.

"Liar!" Rebecca cried. With a sudden burst of unexpected energy, she charged towards the Chief and gripped the collar of his buttoned shirt, strangling him back and forth. Oh, she wanted to do so much more than just strangle him. She wanted to rip him apart, limb by limb, muscle by muscle, until he drowned in his own blood bath. She must have underestimated his strength and cruelty in the process because no more than a few seconds later, she felt her body soaring through the air before her back was swept against the top of his table. She reached for something to brace herself with, but only ended up catching a bunch of folders and papers, and they landed with her when she hit the floor.

"Rebecca!" Chris and Jill cried at the same time and rushed to her side, helping her up to a standing.

"You've lost it, Irons," Barry barked as he prepared to reach for his gun.

"No, you've all lost it, not me." Irons's eyes suddenly became slits, hard and cold, as he walked with an air of arrogance towards the medic, who was just starting to recover from being flung over his desk like a rag doll.

The corner of her mouth was bleeding and she could taste the copper tinge, but that didn't deter her away from confronting Irons. She should have expected that. After all, Irons was no better than Wesker and if Wesker had _eliminated _some of her team members, a rough shove from Irons was the least of Rebecca's concerns. She brought her hands to her chest and felt for her dog tags.

Jill understood the significance of this small action and squeezed her shoulder softly. Chris protectively stood before Rebecca, one hand pushing her back while the other against his holster, in case he needed to reach for a weapon to defend them all.

Irons seemed amused by his heroic front He lazily kicked away a Ming vase that had fallen off his desk and continued walking towards Rebecca with smooth and slow steps until he was sure she could see the delirious look in his eyes.

"Ms. Chambers, if you say I'm a liar, then we are one and the same."

Rebecca was sure her heart stopped beating. Her arms fell limp against Jill and Chris and her legs were losing all stability; she felt like she was walking on liquid.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jill yelled, not sure if she wanted to even hear the answer.

Irons crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled, his shoulders rising up and down as he bellowed. "You see, _Rebecca,_" he spat. "I'm going to take back what I initially said about you being a liar. I know you're still a rookie so I won't fault you for providing me with your _inconsistent _report."

"Spit it out, Irons! What are you saying?" Jill held on to Rebecca tighter.

Chris's eyes as he looked back and forth between her and Rebecca. She gently shook her head, silently letting him know that she'd explain everything later. Barry was also giving her a strange look, but no one looked more stunned and horrified than Rebecca did.

"You claimed in your report that Coen died shortly after you landed in the Arklay forest, but I checked with my sources and they told me that Coen was shot and killed three days ago." Irons took one look at Rebecca, and the expression he wore clearly reflected he understood what was running through her mind. Irons walked past the group and headed for the door; no one stopped him. "Perhaps you mistook his body for one of the Bravo team member's body?"

"Bastard!" Barry screamed and raised the Colt Python, his favorite gun, and fired at the bookcase next to the door frame. An explosion of wood and splinters rained upon Chris, Jill, and Rebecca but none of them budged.

Rebecca didn't even hear the shot being fired and the bookcase being blasted. She was too far away from reality, detached from her body and mind.

And she didn't feel Chris's arms supporting her dead weight, or hear Jill crying out her name as her world became dark. She was falling into a black abyss, and she didn't know if she ever wanted to see the light again.

* * *

A/N: So poor Rebecca thinks Billy is dead. I'm so evil! But, this will all change later on! I know, this chapter was a lot shorter than my others, but I'll be able to write more once I get school work out of the way. Thanks for all the reviews and support! I appreciate every one of them! I want to especially thank Sting for his/her super long review. It wasn't a pain at all to read your review! I enjoyed it very much, and wanted to personally thank you via e-mail but you didn't leave any contact info, so you get a big THANKS here! =)

Until next update! ^_^


	8. Chapter 8

Never Forgotten

_The heat was unbearable. If there was Hell on Earth, this would be it. They had set out as a unit of ten, and now there were no more than three of them left, including him. The unabating sunrays pierced their skin like streaks of fire, making them feel as if they were being burned alive. Burned alive while walking, wandering aimlessly, lost in a thicket of wild green while their eyes fought hard to stay open. If the heat and exhaustion weren't going to kill them, the tribal maniacs would. True, they had the guns, the more superior weapon compared to spears and knives, but they were in their territory, and were at a true disadvantage due to the fact that no one in the team was familiar with the African terrain. The real mission hadn't even begun yet, and already, they had lost seventy percent of their team._

_He hated to think what would happen when the real war started. Three Americans against the very meaning of insanity. _

_He didn't have much hope that he was going to pull through alive. Sure, it would be great to go back to America alive after the mission as a hero, but he'd have to settle for going back dead as a hero. He was mentally strong and physically prepared to face the inevitable defeat, but his main guiding light was his heart. He never once backed away from what he believed in, what he believed was right._

_

* * *

_

_Night time._

_This moment was perhaps the kindest thing God had given him. To be able to sit, rest, and somewhat sleep with the embrace of the temperate wind. It was still hot, but at least it wasn't scorching, and he didn't feel like he was slowly melting. He closed his eyes and savored as much of the precious moment as he could, knowing that in an hour or so, he would have to stand guard so his other two partners could get some rest. He wished he knew their names. One would think that after losing almost the entire team, the remaining survivors would somehow bind closer, but they all figured that it would be best to be as alienated as possible._

_It'd just be that much easier when they die—no names, no identifies, as if like they hadn't existed to begin with._

_What was a child doing out here in the middle of the night? She looked no more than twelve or thirteen—tall, slender, tanned skin and piercing eyes that were fierce, yet gentle from the way she looked at him. They looked pleading, as if they were telling him that she'd surrender anything for his aid._

_But what did she want?_

_Before he could even ask why she was even out here, bravely approaching a solider without any defense, she took him by the arm and guided him away from his post._

_She didn't speak English very well and he didn't know her language, but language was not always needed for communication. Instead, she showed him._

_

* * *

_

_The dead corpses. _

_Broken vials and tubes._

_Cruel-looking torture mechanisms that were much too advanced for the child's community._

_Torn and shredded pages of lab reports that made his stomach knot until he thought he was going to implode._

_All of them…stamped with the logo: 'Umbrella.'_

_She turned and ran, but not before she gave him one last look that made him want to endure the pain for her so she wouldn't need to suffer anymore. She was just a child, but never had a real childhood—she was robbed of everything, all by Umbrella._

"_Wait, what's your name?" he yelled, his voice carrying through the tunnel of thick copse of trees._

_She stopped in her tracks and stared at him hard with those eyes—the eyes that told him how much she had lost, and what she couldn't afford to lose anymore._

_He was about to dismiss his own question, guessing that she didn't understand what he was talking about, when she whispered, "Alomar…Sheva Alomar."_

_And he never saw her again._

_

* * *

_

_His heart had never felt so heavy—like he was taking on the burden of a thousand souls. They had finally reached the site and hovering above him and the two nameless soldiers was a sight he would have wanted to see more than anything…before he had met the mysterious girl._

_The revving blades of the helicopter brought him despair instead of happiness. A great despair that no one on his team could understand. Now, he wished he had gotten to know them better. If a sense of trust and friendship had been built between them, he may not be alone right now. But, he was. He had stupidly kept his mouth shut, fearing that more harm than good would come out of exposing the girl's' secret, but now, there was no chance to redeem that mistake. If he had to do this alone, so be it._

_Reinforcement had arrived and standing before the pack of heavily equipped soldiers was Samuel Regan, the commander of his base. All he heard were the roaring engines of the helicopter and then gunshots going off in all directions, blood falling like drops of rain. _

"_NO! STOP!" he yelled, pushing his way through the soldiers in his path, his arms desperately waving to grab attention. "They're innocent! We've been deceived!'_

_He uttered more useless pleas, but all was lost in the midst of the fray of gunfire, laughs, cries, and screams. Something hard slammed against his head and everything around him spun in a twisted cyclone of confusion before he slipped away from reality. In his little dreamland, everyone was safe, at peace. He saw that girl again, and he could see the gratitude behind the tears within those tender brown eyes. _

_But when he came to, he found himself lying amid a sea of the dead._

Billy woke with a startled jump. It was the same nightmare, the one that had haunted him since his failed mission. He had failed the innocent, the tortured, and Sheva. He sat up from the old, ripped couch and glanced at the window. Judging from how dark it was outside, he guessed it was probably after six. He had no sense of time anymore. The only clock in the little abandoned house had stopped working the moment he entered. Sometimes, it made him feel that his life had stopped, that he was caught in a plane where time ceased and life did not exist. If he really thought about it, he wasn't too far from that idea.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, just to concentrate on shaking away the bloody visions. It just occurred to him that he had never really begged his inner demons to leave him alone, to forgive him for what he couldn't accomplish. It was sadistic, but he felt like he deserved to be wracked with the nightmares. The constant reminder that he couldn't save that village made him feel more alive than anything. Apparently, God didn't want him dead, or else the transport vehicle wouldn't have crashed that night in the Arklay Woods. If he were truly meant to die, he wouldn't have survived the Arklay Facility, and Rebecca would have just sent his ass back to the RPD. But, he also couldn't dismiss the thought that maybe he was just fighting against his death, fighting too hard.

He wanted to believe in the latter—he was a fighter, and a strong one when he had reasons to fight.

And right now, he did. He had to redeem himself for being weak back then; he owed that much to Alomar.

And now that he had a second chance to make things right again, to take down Umbrella, he couldn't let Rebecca share the same fate of the villagers and all those who had been experimented and toyed with.

The stillness of the dark room was suddenly interrupted by harsh knocks.

Billy narrowed his eyes suspiciously upon realizing that they were coming from the front door. He lightly swung his legs over the couch and crouched to reach for his handgun on the floor. He flicked the safety lock and walked cautiously toward the door, making sure to keep his footsteps as soft as possible. He extended one arm toward the knob and kept his armed one hidden in the darkness, in case of any…surprises. He turned the knob and pushed the door back slowly, revealing a young and distraught-looking man, his brown hair plastered against his face from the rain. Billy studied him for a few seconds more and noted that he couldn't be more than twenty-five, and his lanky built told him that he was probably not very physically strong.

His best judgment registered that the man was probably not dangerous.

"Can I help you?"

"Umm…I kind of got lost…" the stranger mumbled rather uncomfortably. He kept darting his eyes left and right, his words falling uneasily through his lips.

Billy raised a brow. "Where are you trying to go?"

"I'm on my way out of Raccoon City, but I can't seem to find the right road out of the woods…and God, I'm just so frustrated." The man's shoulders sagged in defeat. He slapped his forehead with a cold, wet hand, couldn't imagine what else could go wrong.

_Poor bastard really looks desperate to get away from it all._

"Heh…just drive toward that mountain range and take the first exit you see on the right. You should be out of Raccoon in two hours." Billy pointed toward the horizon and tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans. He opened the door wider, not wide enough as if to invite the stranger in, but just enough to properly present himself to the lost man. He could sympathize with being lost.

"Um…w-wow, thanks. Thank God, man! I thought I was on the wrong track."

"No problem. Take care," Billy said, not really in the mood to extend the conversation. He had done his good deed for the day, the only deed for the day.

The man nodded courteously and turned to walk back to his black van, and that was when Billy had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't going crazy and seeing things. 'S.T.A.R.S.' was emblazoned on the back of the man's yellow vest, each letter boldly calling out to him to stop the man. This may be the only damn assistance he was going to get and he couldn't let it slip away like the rain between his fingers. He was about to call the man to stop, but then closed his mouth. Despite how approachable the S.T.A.R.S. member looked, he had to remind himself that he was still wanted for execution.

_But he probably doesn't even recognize you or else he would have pointed you out already. He looks like he's ready to skip town…wonder if it's because of what happened in the papers. If that's the case, you're hardly his concern right now. He may be your only link to Rebecca…_

That alone decided it for him.

"Wait!" the Ex-Lieutenant yelled, jogging to catch up with the stranger who was almost at his car.

"Huh? What?"

"You're with S.T.A.R.S. …aren't you?" Billy spoke evenly, making sure to select the right words to not startle the guy, who looked frazzled at the mere mentioning of his occupation.

"Look…I-I…r-really should get going," he stuttered and reached for his car keys.

"No!" He roughly grabbed his shoulder, making the young man jump backward. Billy immediately stepped back and lifted his hands in the air to show that he was unarmed; he regretted his rash move. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare his only source away. "Please! I…I need your help…"

The S.T.A.R.S. member fumbled and fell against the door of his car. He reached into his vest pocket and retrieved a sheathed knife, poorly waving the weapon in a horrid stance. "Who the hell are you!"

"I know the story. I-I've seen those creatures, the monsters, the zombies…please! Believe me when I tell you that I am on your side," Billy said calmly but firmly. He took a deep breath. He knew he was risking a lot by admitting what he was going to say next, but if there was any small chance to save Rebecca and the rest of S.T.A.R.S., he couldn't walk away from it. "That night, I was with Rebecca Chambers. I'm sure you know who she is."

The man slowly lowered his weapon and stepped forth. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked around nervously before he whispered, "Brad Vickers. You better start explaining yourself."

Billy nodded and half-grinned. Maybe God had heard his prayer after all.

* * *

A/N: Hm, so looks like Billy got a new partner. I wanted to elaborate a little more on the history with Africa because RE 0 did such a horrible job with it. I threw in Sheva and some RE5 history into the mix, too, because after some research, I realized that it is possible for Sheva to fit into the timeline, and she'd be 12-14 at the time of RE 0 and some time before RE 0, which was when Billy was sent to Africa. I decided to add the Umbrella experimentations (taken from RE5) and mix it with Billy's past event in Africa just to make everything more exciting. So, I hope that worked! I'm going to have some future use for it too later on in the story.

Ah, again, thank you for all the lovely reviews! I read and treasure each and every one of them and they all brighten my yucky days. Please review to tell me your thoughts about this chapter, and I'll see you all next update!


	9. Chapter 9

Believe

After weeks of endless questions and directionless paths, Billy Coen was finally starting to find himself back on course again, and he wasn't sure whether he owed it to having his prayers answered by God, or because he had been dealt his lucky cards. Whichever it was, he was darn happy and would not let this opportunity, one that meant all the differences in the world, pass. True, he had to sacrifice a good portion of his secret, one that was only shared between him and Rebecca, but he would be contemplating on shooting himself right now if he had let Brad slip away.

He had to admit that he was quite surprised that the Alpha team member had so readily trusted him. When he first questioned him by his car, he seemed suspicious of his motives and even weakly pulled a knife on him. Perhaps it was the whirlwind of rage, fear, and confusion within him that made him realize that he needed to desperately latch on to someone, friend or foe. Billy tried to sympathize with the poor man. Brad had run away from his home, his comrades, no longer able to take the pressure anymore. Running away wasn't the best decision, but it seemed like it was the only thing he could do, the only thing he was _capable_ of doing now that Umbrella was chaining the remain S.T.A.R.S. members to their prison, their home. From what Brad had told him thus far, in just a matter of a week or so, running would probably not even be an option anymore.

That thought terrified Billy—to not be able to do the one thing they needed to do the most.

The two had exchanged their stories to each other, and while they were still strangers in some sense, a bond of familiarity had certainly spawned from their conversation. It was understood that a distinct alliance had been created between the two, both of them desperately needing it for their own personal reasons. For Brad, it was a chance for him to make up for his cowardly actions. He had ditched his comrades when they needed him the most, at the mansion and after Hell broke loose at the RPD, and now he needed to show his friends that he still cared about the broken team. It was now or never—he may not get the chance to later on.

For Billy, it was the need to continue moving forward after he had been so graciously granted another chance at life despite the numerous obstacles in his path. He owed his freedom and life to a special person and he had to make sure that he was going to return the favor. No, the more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed that he felt like he was in her debt. True, he was, but at the same time, his motives extended far beyond than of just returning a kind gesture. Throughout his short but horrific journey with Rebecca, he had become somewhat attached to her. They had been partners, and he'd even like to consider her as a friend, but maybe that was reaching too far. She simply had a job to do, and had only granted him his freedom after learning the truth about his innocence. Billy wasn't sure if he liked where this was going. Already, too much personal feelings were involved and from what he had learned, that was never a good thing. But now, he was really starting to question if it was really that terrible, to be driven by the emotions that made him _human._

"Unbelievable. I cannot believe that I'm sitting here with someone who had been scapegoated and destined to be executed." Somehow, the statement seemed more real as the words rolled off Brad's lips.

They had been sitting in a comfortable silence for quite some time, each lost in his own thoughts after digesting the new revelations they learned.

"Ha. And I can't believe I'm sitting across from someone who nearly left his team mates to die on the roof of that mansion." Billy smirked, but he hardly found the situation to be funny in the slightest manner. He exhaled deeply, a serious look replacing his tiny grin. "But I'm glad you managed to save all of them, save Rebecca.'

There must have been a thick sound of longing that left with the utterance of Rebecca's name, for even Brad seemed to have caught on to it. "She means something to you, doesn't she?"

"I suppose as much as what your friend, Jill, means to Chris. Let's leave it at that."

Brad smiled, taking in everything there was to know from that one analogy. "Yeah, don't worry. Your secret is safe with me, I won't mention anything to anyone when I go back."

Billy frowned. "What do you plan to do when you head back to Raccoon?"

With shaky fingers, Brad reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a heavy stack of documents placed neatly into manila envelopes. "I-I haven't told anyone about this, not even Barry and Chris. I-I guess I just got too scared and ran away with them before even informing any of them…"

"What the hell is that?" Billy reached for the files, his fingers quickly flipping through the pages. As he quickly skimmed over the content, he felt the knots within his stomach tighten. He wasn't sure if it showed, but he could certainly feel the colors draining from his face as he sat in complete awe, fixated at the new chapter of terror that was unfolding between his hands. "My God…they…."

Brad nodded, looking equally as frantic when he saw Billy's calm and collected demeanor change. "Umbrella…they…they're planning on shipping bio-organic weapons into the city from Europe," he confirmed, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "I…I guess that's where the main headquarter is at."

"What is this…? The NEMESIS project? Tyrant? Mr. X?" There were some other names on different pages, but those were the most prominent ones that stood out to Billy. Most of the smaller 'shipments' seemed to just be labeled with a specimen code. He stood up from the couch, the news making him feel even more restless than ever. Yes, he was still aware that he was trapped within the confines of the small shack, but standing and just moving seemed to help keep his mind a bit more relaxed than sitting down. "Brad, tell me. I don't know Raccoon well at all, but are there secret labs in the city?"

"I-I…think Barry and Chris were suspecting that there are…like the one you and Rebecca encountered in the forest," Brad said quietly.

"Where?" Billy demanded.

"They could be anywhere…but Barry and Chris heavily suspect that they could be hidden beneath the city, beneath the RPD." The Alpha member closed his eyes and Billy sympathized with him. It must be difficult to admit that the very place he had been working at for the last years of his life was the base where all the evil was carried out. To put bluntly, unknowingly working _against_ what he had dedicated his life to, sucked big time.

"What! Brad…where did you find the files…?" Billy was almost certain that he was not going to like the answer he was going to hear.

"I found them in Brian Irons's office. I was going crazy on the night that I was planning on leaving town. As I was packing my things from the office, I don't know what possessed me to go into his office. Perhaps all the accusations and suspicions that Irons had been in it with Umbrella since the beginning provoked me to do so. I wasn't even sure what I was looking for. I panicked and grabbed the first thing I saw and ran out…and it was later when I was on the road that I discovered…well….what I just showed you..." Brad exhaled sharply, feeling as if another load of burden had been lifted off his shoulder.

Unfortunately, it seemed that load had shifted on to Billy.

"Shit…we can't let them get these into the city. We have to somehow hold off these crazy shipments. This is insane!" This couldn't be happening. Although Raccoon wasn't his city and home, he still felt responsible for the well-beings of the residents. Maybe it was because he had seen firsthand the outcome of the bio-weapon disaster, and to have that disaster planted in the _city…_well, he didn't even want to _think _about that.

Brad frowned and rubbed his chin, remembering something. "I read something in the files and saw a map with random notes beside it. I…I think according to the files, they're planning on secretly shipping the experiments into the city through this forest. They're gonna pass by here to get into Raccoon, to the RPD."

Billy raised a brow. "You sure it's this forest and not Arklay?"

"Arklay is north of Raccoon and we're south of Raccoon as of now. Like you said, two hours from here and we'd be out of Raccoon. I'm positive that the notes next to the map did not refer to the Arklay Woods," Brad confirmed. "And…" he continued hesitantly."If they are sticking to the plan, there should be a shipment arriving tomorrow…around noon."

Billy rapidly flipped through the files until he found the map Brad was referring to. He didn't need to reread it to realize that Brad was right—Umbrella would be passing through the forest to get the shipment into the city, tomorrow at noon. With a heavy sigh, he dropped the files on to the small coffee table and stared out the window, his dark eyes not catching anything in particular, but everything at once. He wasn't much of a believer in fate, in fact, he wasn't much of a believer in anything, but this had to be more than just a mere coincidence. They were here, at the source, and they could stop Umbrella from slipping their horrendous experiments through the forest, into the RPD, which was now at the mercy of Irons's manipulations. Still, the questions never ceased. How long can they hold off Umbrella before the company realizes that something was standing in their way? What would they do? What if they find other means into the city? Do they plan to unleash the experiments into the city for their sick pleasure?

"Got a plan?" Brad asked nervously upon noticing that he had been sitting in complete silence for a few minutes.

"Yeah, we take them out, starting tomorrow," Billy replied smoothly, his mind set. "Did you pack weapons with you?"

Brad gave a faint smile. "A good number of 'em in my car."

"Smart choice."

* * *

It had been three days, three days since she found out the worst truth of her life. Three days, and nothing had changed, and to say that she felt slightly better than she was originally was a lie. Still, she didn't want to upset Jill, who had been more than kind and nurturing towards her since the day she embarrassingly, but understandably fainted upon hearing the news about Billy's death.

Jill had heard soft sniffles and immediately asked her friend if she was all right. "Rebecca? You still up? You okay?"

"I-…I guess…." Rebecca whispered, drying her eyes into Jill's pillow. She had been completely depressed and devastated after Irons's revelation, and though she insisted on being alone, Jill was relentlessly against that idea. The older woman forced her to stay with her at her apartment, to make sure that she was properly taken care, picked up when fallen, but Rebecca knew she had already fallen too deeply to be reached for.

Jill sighed. "Come on, you've been saying that but I know that's not the case." She reached for the lamp by her dresser and flickered on the light. An inviting dim beam parted through the darkness, revealing a disheveled Rebecca beside her, her back turned to her, her thick short hair wild and free. "Maybe you want to talk about this, Becky?" she asked, attempting again to get the young medic to open up.

"You know there's not much to say…you know everything," Rebecca whispered. She tightly grabbed on to the edge of the blanket and held it below her aching chest. God, it hurt like hell, and she wished she could just smother the pain. If only it were really that simple.

Jill smoothed out the sheets on the bed and looked sympathetically at her friend. She realized that there was probably nothing she could say to make Rebecca feel better.

The only person who could make her whole again was Billy, but that could never happen. Asking for the dead to walk again was too much. _But you have seen them with your own eyes…those monsters, zombies…the undead, more alive than some people you know, _her mind smartly reminding her. Rebecca shuddered at the thought and blocked it away, instead thinking about how much they had all lost in the last few weeks. Everyone seemed to be slipping from her life, and it was getting harder to tell when someone else would no longer be a part of her life. Her heart tensed and folded into itself; it was a terrible sensation.

Like any friend would do, Jill reached out and touched Rebecca's shoulder gently, rubbing it up and down soothingly, empathizing with the pain even though they were two separate entities. At this point, she wasn't sure what to say anymore, but the silence wasn't thick at all. In fact, it was rather welcoming. It allowed them both to think and reflect on the tragedies they had witnessed. If only she could somehow channel her sorrow and agony into something else, something she could utilize. Jill's next revelation offered what she desired.

"Rebecca…?" Jill started softly. "I want to tell you something…"

"What is it…?" Rebecca whispered, her voice barely containing any strength.

"Chris, Barry, and I…we're planning on going to Europe to stop Umbrella for good. We're…we're planning on taking out the headquarter there…and…we want you to come along if you wish to…" Jill leaned into the pillows supporting her back and closed her eyes. "There's nothing left for us here in Raccoon anymore. S.T.A.R.S. is finished and it's only a matter of time before Umbrella hunts us down."

Rebecca blinked, the question certainly catching her by surprise. They were all planning on leaving, moving forward. They were going to take their fight to the next level. She felt her eyes welling with tears. Unlike her, they were all so brave and courageous—moving through a road of ruin, making it to the next stepping-stone before the path collapsed. When she first applied for S.T.A.R.S., she had her doubts. She was afraid that she might not be physically and mentally prepared to take on the challenges compared to her comrades, and in the end, that notion proved to be true. Who was she kidding? She was a trained _chemist _and _medic_. She had no proper fighting experiences besides some quick training with basic firearms. She'd only slow them down, or worse, get in their way.

"I think Billy would want you to do so as well…" Jill added.

"It's so unfair. He was innocent…" Rebecca said, her voice monotone. She felt as if she was in a trance, her will completely detached from the physical shell of her body. Everything felt so surreal, like she was drifting aimlessly with no support to ground her. There was no rationality, no logic. Nothing seemed right. "He deserved to live his life again…he was such a good person. I-I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him," she continued, each word laced with a sadness she didn't know how to express. She knew she must have appeared miserable on the surface, but it could not be compared to what she was feeling on the inside, like it was being chewed up by acid. There was just no justice left in the world. Any hope she had had about making a difference by becoming an officer was basically out the window.

"Sweetie…" Jill cooed soothingly as if she were consoling a child. "We all fight for different reasons…we all have our personal reasons…" With that, she reached for her lamp and turned off the light, the room becoming dark as the night outside.

Rebecca appreciated the solitude the darkness gave her, enabling her to further think about Jill's offer even though it felt her heart had already made the decision. She would have to be the one to heal herself and her inner wounds. It was bitterly ironic in a sense—a healer to others who couldn't revive herself. Damn Umbrella to Hell for making them walk this path. They were going to pay dearly one day.

A few moments of silence passed, the soft rhythmic ticking of the clock the only sound in the room. Assuming Rebecca had either fallen asleep or wanted to keep to herself, Jill turned to her side and pulled up the covers.

"So…when do we leave for Europe?"

"In a week and a half," her friend answered almost too quickly, like she had been prepared for the question.

Rebecca swore there was a smile in Jill's voice.

* * *

A/N: So are Jill and Rebecca really leaving for Europe? Guess you gotta find out in the later chapters. =) I know you guys must be dying for Rebecca and Billy to meet up already, and trust me, it will happen soon! But, I really want to build a nice foundation for the story before that happens so please bear with me for a few more chapters! I want to thank all of you guys from the bottom of my heart for reading and writing back to me. You have no idea how inspiring it is to hear the comments and reviews. I appreciate and cherish each and every one of them. Thank you so so much! Things will get a lot more complicated later on in the story! Hugs to all of you guys for being so awesome in supporting this fic and me. ^_^


	10. Chapter 10

Change of Plan

Neither men said anything as Billy checked his watch, even though he had just done so a few seconds ago. He couldn't deny that he was nervous. With the stock of the H&K PSG1 rifle resting idly on his right shoulder, it couldn't feel more real that he was about to partake in a very serious situation, one that would have consequences both good and bad. He'd just have to keep his mind off the bad ones for now.

It was almost noon. In just five minutes, they should be expecting some type of vehicle to slip through the forest. At first, he and Brad were both concerned that they wouldn't be able to tell which one would be Umbrella's transport vehicle among the others on the road, but luckily, there hadn't been many cars passing through the forest. In fact, Billy only counted three cars from eight in the morning. His theory was that there were other roads to take to get into the city, ones that led into the city faster, so no one would bother taking the more shrouded and complicated route—exactly why Umbrella probably wanted to use this path, to avoid drawing attention.

The plan was simple: find the vehicle and snipe the tire. Since Brad was inexperienced with rifles, he'd have to somehow knock the driver unconscious after the vehicle crashed and swerved. There was still one problem—they hadn't decided on what to do with the unconscious driver. Killing him would obviously be the cleanest action to take; there'd be no traces, no evidences, nothing. But, morally, Billy and Brad knew it was wrong. Neither of them was capable of just shooting someone cold-bloodedly. The question of what to do with the poor driver persisted in Billy's mind, and he was getting frustrated that he couldn't come up with a solution. They only had two choices really…dump the Umbrella employee somewhere and when he comes to, he'd find his way out and probably inform the pharmaceutical company of the accident, or take him out. Since they couldn't settle with the latter, the former would be the only option, right?

Still, that solution did not sit well with Billy, not at all. But now was not the time to worry about that. He had to concentrate and take out the target with one clean shot. If he missed the first time and the driver heard the shot, it would cause even more problems, and God knew Billy had enough to worry about!

"Three minutes. Head to your post," Billy commanded, motioning a hand toward the thicket of trees not too far from the shack. He positioned the rifle until it was comfortable within his grip, one eye peering into the scope of the weapon.

"Okay, I'm going I'm going. You sure you got this under control, right?" Brad hissed, paranoia setting in.

"Yes."

Brad took a deep breath and opened the door, preparing to head out, only to stick his head back in again to ask one last question. "You're not going to miss and accidentally kill me, right?"

Billy couldn't help but chuckle in a slightly sadistic manner. If the mood weren't so tense at the moment, he'd think about messing with the wuss now. "Don't worry. I'm a trained marksman. Now get your ass out there, kid."

Billy noticed Brad frowning. He didn't say anything and simply ran to his post. The Ex-Marine suddenly felt guilty for referring to Brad as a 'kid'-it was quite insulting, seeing that Brad could very well be older than he was. He made a mental note to apologize later if he remembered.

"Good…" Billy muttered once he saw that Brad had taken his position. He inhaled sharply and let out a shallow breath, trying his best to relax his speeding heart at a consistent pacing. He was about to glance at his watch again when he noticed a small white truck coming into focus through his scope. He followed it for a few seconds and smiled when he saw the mini Umbrella logo stamped in the back of the truck, right above the back tire. Things couldn't have been clearer and easy for him. "It's here…right on time," he confirmed to himself. Lowering the rifle slowly and carefully, finger on the trigger, he took great aim in concentration before he fired. Eyes narrowed and jaws locked tightly, he pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the open window, and in a second, it was all over. The bullet made a direct course for the rear tire, and the truck swerved just as Billy had expected, crashing into a row of trees off the road.

Dropping the weapon by the coffee table, Billy got up from his crouching position and ran into the woods, just in time to see Brad pull out the unconscious driver from his seat. It looked like they didn't need to give him a good punch in the face after all.

"Good shot," Brad panted, safely setting the lifeless driver on the ground

"Looks like I did your dirty work, too," Billy said, kneeling next to the Umbrella employee to check his pulse. "He'll be okay, just out at the moment."

"So…what do we do with him?" Brad asked, following Billy toward the back of the truck, waiting to see what was behind the shutter. "Once he wakes up, he's going to realize that his truck had been hijacked."

"Let's just see what's inside here first," Billy ordered. "Did you get the keys from the engine?"

"Right here…" Brad said slowly, inserting a few keys into the back shutter via the trial and error method. After the fourth attempt, the last key fit. "Let's see." With Billy's help, he managed to raise the shutter, revealing a few boxes and cages with live dogs, tall and slightly bulky ones, perhaps German Shepherds. "The hell…" Brad muttered, removing the cargo from the truck, his escalating by the second. "They're just like the monsters Chris and the others were talking about…the Cerberus-like creatures that had lost all sanity and control, only living on the instinct to feed on human flesh."

"They're planning on testing them…with the viruses most likely…" Billy whispered, almost in as much shock as Brad. He had faced them too in the Arklay Woods, but to see live ones, innocent ones that were to be experimented on against their will…he just couldn't accept that. As a little kid, he was quite fond of animals, and even now, he had a soft spot for them in his heart. "We have to release them," he said, already fiddling with the lock on the cages.

Brad did the same. At the sound of a _pop_ from the lock, the doors of the cages were thrown open, the poor prisoners springing out, running into the outstretched fields where freedom was embracing them with open arms. Billy and Brad momentarily forgot about the other boxes, too caught up at the sight of the dogs thrusting into the depths of the woods, already gone, though their howls of happiness reverberated through the forest. It instilled them with equal contentment, knowing that they had saved the poor souls from being victims to Umbrella's cruel experiments and torture.

If only Billy could say the same for the innocent villagers who were shot because they'd found out about Umbrella's secret researches, using Africa as a test bed. He had discovered Umbrella's evil actions and intentions; yet, he couldn't prevent the deaths, the cries, and the screams. He shuddered involuntarily, a thousand voices echoing through his confined mind, each voice seeping in, wanting a say, wanting to reprimand him.

"Hey, you all right?" Brad asked, noticing the look of discomfort on his friend's face.

"Yeah…fine. Sorry, it's nothing." Billy shrugged and readjusted his thoughts, his attention returning to the boxes. He pulled out a small knife from his pocket and cut through the many layers of security tape. Umbrella seemed really intent on securing whatever it was inside. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the Alpha member was mimicking him, hastily cutting through the tape to see what was inside the box. Parting the inner flaps of the box, Billy pulled out what appeared to be a metal briefcase among the styrofoam cushioning.

"I have that in my box too," Brad announced, pulling out an identical briefcase. Finding the latch on both sides, he carefully opened the top, and gasped aloud at the sight. Inside the case were four rows neatly packed vials containing an eerie looking purple liquid. What made his heart flip thrice were the same labels on each vial that read: T-Virus. Handle with care.

"T-This is what's responsible for the outbreaks in Arklay…" Billy breathed, hardly believing that he was holding the very source of evil that had created the nightmare that he and the rest of the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members would never awake from. He was holding it, in his very hands, his shaky hands.

Suddenly, Billy detected something else besides sheer terror emanating from Brad. Before he could stop him, Brad slammed the briefcase shut and withdrew his Samurai Edge from his holster and moved toward the unconscious body of the driver. Billy could see the faint lines of muscles protruding from his arm as Brad clenched his handgun, his usual confused eyes dull and hard, cold and unforgiving.

"NO!" Billy yelled, snapping his case shut too, standing up and running toward the possessed officer. Before he could push him to the ground, a deafening shot shook the still forest, causing life to stir and run away from the source of the blast. The Ex-Lieutenant made it to the front of the truck just in time to see a small trail of blood pooling by his boots, the crimson liquid pouring from a gaping hole in the dead man's chest. "W-What have you done?" Billy looked up and saw Brad's hardened features beginning to animate again, his eyes regaining focus, his jaws relaxing, and cheeks lowering.

"Oh God…I…I didn't mean to…" Brad stuttered, dropping his gun to the ground as the realization he had just murdered someone hit him with full impact. His knees shook and then all support gave away as he collapsed beside his gun, beside the cluster of blood forming by his knees. "An indescribable rage came over me…seeing the viruses, the dogs…how they killed Frost, my friends….gone, dead…they- Oh God, you have to believe me! I didn't mean to kill him…but…but he's working for Umbrella! The company that turned my friends into zombies, taking their lives…my team…my-" Brad completely lost it. Tears sprung from his eyes and he covered his face with his trembling, bloody hands, as if shielding himself from the reality of the situation. "I-I hate to admit it, but it felt so good to channel all my frustration, hurt, and anger in that one shot. Just taking away one of Umbrella's lives for the lives _they _had taken felt so _damn _good."

_Shit, this is just what I need. A mental meltdown right about now, _Billy thought. He placed a gentle hand on one of Brad's quaking shoulders, forcing himself not to look at the bloody mess of the Umbrella employee. "Brad, I need you to do something for me."

"I-I didn't mean to…" Brad stuttered, completely oblivious to his friend's words.

"Brad!" Billy barked, shaking his shoulders roughly in an attempt to break him from his crazed phase. "Snap out of it. I need you to listen to me."

The sentence registered in his mind, albeit slowly. Glancing up, he saw how deadly serious Billy looked and his eyes narrowed sternly. "W-what is it…?"

"Listen to me carefully. Don't interrupt me." Sensing that the tremors were decreasing, Billy released him and gathered the boxes in his arms. "First, we're going to have to hide this body. Next, we're going to somehow move this truck so it's not in the road. That would look too suspicious and we want to be as inconspicuous as possible. Afterwards…I need you to drive back to Raccoon City and warn your friends about this."

The usual look of confusion was present on Brad's face again. "W-what? What about you! Why now? I thought we're supposed to stop the rest of the shipments. According to the files, there will be more heading into the city!"

Billy shook his head. "Maybe, and if that's the case, I'll stand here and try to avoid it, but think about it. The receiver of this shipment, most likely Irons perhaps, will not be getting it. To top it off, Umbrella will realize that one of their employees will not be showing up to work. It wouldn't take them long to put two and two together, and realize that something happened along the way. They'll be conducting their investigation soon, and there's a VERY good chance that they'll know NOT to use this route anymore. They'll find other means into the city. I don't know what else they're planning on shipping to the labs in Raccoon, but we can't let the T-viruses enter the city. It's too risky. If the viruses end up spilling in the city-"

"What am I supposed to do with them?" Brad's voice rose, along with the panic.

"You're going to take them to your friends and tell them about the files you showed me. Let Jill, Chris, Barry, and…Rebecca…know that they should beware of the secret labs within the city." Billy closed his eyes, contemplating for a moment whether or not this was the best idea. True, he'd be helping the city, but at the same time, he'd be putting the remaining S.T.A.R.S. in even more danger if Umbrella were to find out they were holding the viruses. But then again, he couldn't put them in anyone else's hands.

Brad had to blink and catch his thoughts. Everything had happened so fast. Things were going fine this morning, everything had gone according to plan, but the last few minutes were a different story. Still, he luckily still had enough sense in him to agree that this was for the best. "So you want me to go back to the city, give them the T-viruses, and then warn them about the labs?"

"Exactly."

* * *

"Are you going to be all right?" Billy asked through the rolled down window of Brad's car. He was glad the question came out casually. At least Brad had calmed down from his sudden breakdown a few hours ago. Now, Billy was just worried about him finding his way back safely into the city, especially since he had to guard one of Umbrella's most sacred possessions.

It was quite dark for 8:00 pm, especially for summer, but it worked in their favor so Billy couldn't complain. If it weren't for the faint beams from the headlights of the car, it'd be almost impossible to make out anything in the darkness. It had taken them some time to hide the body of the dead Umbrella employee and move the small truck to an isolated location, but they'd managed to get it done in less time than they'd thought.

"I think so. You?"

Billy nodded. "It's a good thing you gave me some of your spare weapons. I could really use them later on."

Brad gave a small smile and reclined into the leather seat of his car, his fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel. He wasn't in a rush to go in the slightest, but he figured the sooner he got back to the city to inform the others, the better. Besides, it was a lot better traveling at night in the dark than daybreak. If all goes well, he should be back in Raccoon before dawn.

"No problem. You're better equipped for them than I am. I guess this is good-bye then?"

Billy smirked. "Yeah, wish I could say it's been nice…but given the situation…"

"Maybe we'll meet up again?" the Alpha member suggested hopefully, having a slightly difficult time in severing ties with his new companion.

"Maybe, but probably not. I'll stay here for some time and see what's going on with the situation with Umbrella but after that, I may have to start running again."

Brad looked down, unsure how to respond to that comment, and finally settled with, "You can count on me to make sure everything goes according to plan."

"Good."

The engine roared to life and Billy took a few steps away from the car. There were still some questions lingering on his mind, and he hadn't asked Brad before because he hadn't expected that things would turn out the way they did, causing him to leave much sooner than he'd thought. Honestly, the questions shouldn't matter anymore, and he scolded himself for letting emotions interfere. He shouldn't even be _caring _right now, but he did, and in a way, he had to know. "Brad, wait."

"Hmm?"

"Is…is she doing all right?"

"Oh, you mean Rebecca?" Brad asked softly.

"Yeah."

Brad sighed, thinking about where to even begin. "We're all devastated about what happened at the mansion. She found out that she lost her entire team…she's the sole survivor of Bravo. We had a small memorial service a few weeks ago, and when I saw her, she looked miserable, but they all did. I could tell she had a lot on her mind, but no one wants to speak about what had happened, you know?"

"I see…but now that S.T.A.R.S. is made out to be the enemy in the papers…I…"

"You're worried about her." Brad didn't even ask, he stated.

"I am," Billy admitted. "I don't know what's going to happen to her now that we have this on our hands…"

"Her friends will be there for her…but I know you still care about her a lot, don't you?"

Billy's eyes darted left and right before he nodded in confirmation. For a good portion of his life, he had been trained to not feel compassion or any other emotion for that matter, but he slowly felt that barrier slipping, cracking, revealing that tender heart beneath his stoic exterior. He wasn't sure whether he felt weakened or strengthened by this, but he did know it felt rather…strange, but more so in a good way. "It's kinda hard not to when we fought so hard to make it out of that nightmare."

"I know you told me before not to mention to anyone about our meeting and I still respect your decision, but would you want Rebecca to know that…well, I guess we met?"

Billy smiled; he'd caught on to what Brad was going to say. "Rebecca knows I'm alive and in hiding. There's no need to bring that up. I'm afraid once word slips, things will be harder on her. I'm supposed to be 'dead' remember? I don't want the RPD and Umbrella giving her more problems. They all have enough to worry about."

"True…I understand. I won't mention anything then."

"But, just promise me that you'll watch over her and protect her? Like you said, things are probably going to get really rough with Umbrella on their heels now."

Brad's own eyes reflected what Billy must have expressed on his face—sympathy. "I promise…"

Billy stood tall and gave a formal salute. "Thank you. Take care, Brad."

"You too. Don't worry about Rebecca. I'll make sure she'll be all right. You just worry about yourself." With that, Brad rolled up the window and pulled his car back.

It turned into the road and Billy watched until it drove out of sight. He was alone again.

* * *

A/N: As usual, I want to thank everyone again for reading and commenting! I've gotten more feedbacks for the last chapter than any other chapters, which means there are more readers, so yay! I appreciate each and every reader's comments and taking his/her time to read this! ^_^ I promise, just a few more critical chapters and Billy and Rebecca will meet!


	11. Chapter 11

A Step Forward and Back

Jill set plates of sausages, pancakes, and scrambled eggs along with a pitcher of milk on to her tiny kitchen table. Normally, she'd be okay with just a bowl of cereal and a banana (she was into having bigger lunches than breakfasts), but with a guest over, serving the simplicity of cereal and a piece of fruit made her uncomfortable. She heard the sound of a door close behind her and found Rebecca walking out of the bathroom, a warm smile on her pretty face. She had been staying with Jill for the past few days, and the two agreed that the medic would make one last trip back to her own apartment to do some last minute packing before they left for Europe.

Rebecca took a look at the table before sitting down, scooping some scrambled eggs and sausages into her bowl, taking a few nibbles here and there, but never really finishing the entire piece.

"Morning. Sorry, I can't really cook." Jill smiled, seating herself next to her friend. "I feel bad that you had to eat my horrible cooking for the past few days."

Rebecca waved her hand, dismissing Jill's critical opinion. "Oh! No, it's not that! It's just that I still haven't found my appetite yet."

Jill nodded in understanding, took a bite of her homemade breakfast, conscious that it tasted rather bland. She had always been careful to make sure her food had some flavor to it whenever she cooked, but the past few days must have taken a toll her, too. Honestly, she was very nervous about heading to Europe to stop Umbrella, but she couldn't make that evident to Rebecca. She had to be strong, not just for herself, but also for Rebecca and the rest of the team. Barry and Chris were anxious as well, but she wasn't sure to what extent. Everyone seemed to be keeping to themselves, trying to put on a hard and positive front, for the sake of conjuring some team spirit and morale.

"Sorry, I must have forgotten to add in salt while I was cooking."

Rebecca chuckled. "Jill, stop apologizing! Really, you've done so much for me. Thank you…"

She took another bite, perhaps just forcing herself to be courteous. Jill set down her fork, feeling full even though she didn't even finish half of her portion. As she looked at Rebecca, she couldn't help but wonder if the topic of Europe had been brought upon the younger woman too quickly. Was Rebecca really ready to take on such a fatal mission? In just a matter of days, her team, job, boss, reputation, and Billy were all gone. Honestly, Jill wasn't even sure she was ready herself, but spending each day making preparation plans with Chris and Barry made the mission more real, more demanding.

"Rebecca? About Europe, I'm sorry to have popped it out of nowhere last night-"

"No, Jill, I've been thinking about it all night. It was actually the perfect time. Right now, I'm at a loss, but if I go with you, Chris, and Barry to Europe, I feel like I'd find a purpose again, a purpose to keep on moving forward." She touched the dog tags, rubbing her thumb over the surface. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Jill pretended she didn't see the way Rebecca was longingly gripping the necklace against her chest, her heart. She had been a complete wreck after that day in Irons's office when she had found out about Billy's death, but each day after the next, Jill was so proud that Rebecca was recovering at an impressive rate. She knew Wesker didn't just pick any chum to be a part of S.T.A.R.. He was very selective, choosing the best, brightest, most talented person, and those qualities no doubt represented Rebecca. She reached out and touched the medic's hand, squeezing it gently. "Everything is going to be okay. We're going to go to Europe to take down Umbrella for good."

Rebecca gave a small smile and returned the squeeze. "You make everything sound so easy, Jill."

"Maybe I just want to convince myself that it'll be that easy, but on the other hand, everything seems to be going smoothly. Barry already sent his family to a safe location and set up a rendezvous point in Europe where we're going to regroup with other S.T.A.R.S. members all over the world."

"You mean the ones who haven't been sold out to Umbrella yet…?" Rebecca asked quietly.

Jill swallowed. It was still difficult to accept that according to Barry, the majority of S.T.A.R.S. had sided with Umbrella for one reason or another, mostly for money, but that didn't mean there weren't others out there who felt like them.

"Jill? Did you tell Barry and Chris about Billy?' Rebecca asked suddenly, the question startling both herself and Jill.

"I didn't. They knew his background and obviously were very concerned about you and his…" Jill thought for a moment, searching for the right word. "…involvement. But, I didn't tell them anything else. I made a promise to you and I intend to keep it. I'll let them know only if you want me to."

"Thank you. I-I think I want to tell them myself…"

"When?"

"Maybe when we get to Europe, or perhaps during the plane ride there? It's going to be a long way and it'd be nice to kill some time, huh?" Rebecca said, easing some light humor into the tension. "I know they're dying to know…and I bet Chris has been bugging you about it for awhile now, huh?"

Jill let out a small laugh and nodded. "You know Chris. He's an insanely curious person, but with good intentions. And yes, he has been bugging me about it a lot, but only because he cares about you, Rebecca. When I told him that you're staying with me, he seemed to be really relieved that you're being taken care of."

"Thank you, Jill. Though I've lost so much, I still have so much to be grateful for." Her eyes became moist but no tears fell.

Both women forgot about their breakfasts. Jill pushed her seat back and reached forward, lightly embracing Rebecca. Honestly, Jill wasn't very fond of vulnerable people, being that she had always been a very independent person since her mother's death, but it was more than understandable in Rebecca's case. She was only eighteen and had gone through the unimaginable suffering that people couldn't even envision. Rebecca relaxed her head against Jill's shoulder; the warm and caring contact of another human comforted them both.

Suddenly, a series of loud banging at the front door startled the duo. Jill was the first to recover from the shock and raised a finger against her mouth, signaling silence as she softly crept toward the door. Rebecca nodded and pulled out her Samurai Edge from her holster, keeping the gun concealed beneath the table. Jill tipped her head in affirmation and opened the door in one quick sweep, causing an erratic man holding several briefcases to fall into the apartment, landing face first on the floor. Rebecca swiftly swept her gun from beneath the table, the muzzle pointed at the man's head.

"Hold it!" she yelled, weapon trained mercilessly on the invader.

"W-wait! Don't shoot!" The man raised his hands and crouched, his face coming into clear view.

"Brad!" Jill gasped, kicking the front door close before helping him up. "What are you doing here? We all thought you ditched town!"

The anger in Jill's voice at the latter statement made Brad tremble, but reminding herself that she couldn't blame him for his cowardly actions, she decided to start over. "What's going on, Brad?"

"Jill, Rebecca," he wheezed, paying particular attention to the briefcases to make sure that nothing had spilled from his reckless landing. "Chris and Barry. Are they here?"

Rebecca immediately dropped her weapon and helped support Brad's weight until he was steady on his own two feet. "They're not here. They're making final preparations for our flight to Europe."

Brad's eyes widened, unsure if he had heard correctly. "What! Europe? You guys are going to Europe?"

Jill rolled her eyes, feeling her frustration rise yet again. "Brad, how about telling us why _you're _here."

When Brad stood to his full height, she noticed that his face and hair were disheveled, his clothes stained with blood and dirt, crumpled and ripped. His dark eyes were wild, as if they were searching, seeking, but couldn't find what they were looking for. There was a strong odor emanating from his body, as well. Jill knew that some men from the Alpha team had passed on rumors to the Bravo team that Brad 'Chickenheart' Vickers would sometimes skip days of showering, causing an overwhelming scent of BO to be released, but no, this smell was different. There was a strong whiff of decay reeking from his body, the smell of death.

"Y-you guys can't go to Europe!" he screamed frantically, holding up the briefcases in his hands. Not only did his voice shake, but his entire body was wavering. "I-I have the T-virus with me."

* * *

Well, Rebecca certainly had not expected this: Chris, Barry, Jill, Brad, herself, gathered in Jill's tiny living room, silently digesting Brad's bombshell. Who knew Brad had such amazing timing? Moments after Brad's confession, Jill had contacted Barry and Chris, holding an emergency meeting at her place. Now, all eyes were on Brad, and as much as Rebecca sympathized with Brad being put under the spotlight, she couldn't help but feel angry at him, too. No, she couldn't be completely angry towards him. A part of her was for sure, but the other half was more frustrated about the situation. Everything had been set—they were going to head to Europe, take down Umbrella, leave behind Raccoon and S.T.A.R.S. forever but somehow, she had a feeling that this was all too good to be true. Yes, Chris and Barry had suspicions about secret laboratories within the city, but they had hoped that by taking down the main headquarter in Europe, the labs within the city would be defunct. But now that Umbrella was transporting T-viruses into the city, well, that was another story.

"So let me get this straight. You grabbed random files from Irons's office before you left and when you were driving south, through some forest, you read the files and realized that Umbrella was planning on sending shipments into the city, most likely to the RPD. Then, you decided to conduct a stakeout by yourself and took down the driver of the transport vehicle, and hid his body and the van before gathering these briefcases, heading back to Raccoon and storming to Jill's apartment at eight in the morning," Barry said in one breath, an incredulous look on his face.

Brad nodded, but his flitting eyes told Rebecca that perhaps there was something else he had not shared. Heavy dark circles surrounded his eyes, making him appear older than he really was.

Jill shook her head, equally as annoyed as everyone else in the room. "I don't even know what to say. Brad, how could you just run off like that, without telling anyone?"

Brad bowed his head out of shame and embarassment. "I'm sorry. I know it was wrong of me, but I was just so scared at the time." He straightened himself until he was able to meet everyone's eyes. "But that's why I came back," he continued. "I want to make it up to you guys for leaving when you…I mean, we…are so vulnerable."

"You sure pick the best time to play team player," Chris said sarcastically. He unfolded his arms from his chest and sighed. "But at least you did manage to get the T-viruses. I-I don't even want to think about the viruses inadvertently spilling in the city due to whatever reason."

A cold chill ran down Rebecca's spine as she considered the implication of Chris's words- the Mansion Incident magnified tenfold.

"Okay, now that we know what's going on, what's the plan?" Jill asked.

"The plan still stands. We're heading to Europe," Barry stated firmly in a voice that meant finality.

Brad shot up to a standing, looking bewildered than anyone had ever seen him. "Did you not hear a thing I said? What about Raccoon?"

"He's right." Chris rubbed his chin. "Now that we know suspicious activities are taking place, we can't just forget about Raccoon. We have to make sure that whatever happens, a biohazard outbreak is out of the question."

The small was soon filled with a shattering crescendo, everyone trying to top their voice over each other, except for Rebecca. She watched quietly, oddly feeling like a small child witnessing a group of adults bickering over something trivial such as taking a bill. The volume elevated, everyone lost in the heat of the verbal fray, and Rebecca was starting to wonder if the walls were soundproof.

She covered her ears and shook her head, trying to drown out their yells. God, did they even realize that she was still sitting here, waiting for them to act their age? "GUYS!" she snapped with such force that the room became eerily quietly even before the ringing of her own voice faded from her earshot. The argument immediately disbanded and everyone turned around to face her, looking at her questioningly.

"Sorry," she muttered, feeling her cheeks flush. "I think I came up with a solution that will make everyone happy.'

Barry raised a brow. "What is it?"

She looked at them intensely, wanting them to realize how serious she was being. There were moments when she didn't mind being treated and looked upon as a rookie, but not right now, damnit. Everyone had worked so hard to keep on fighting strong, and now, she had to make her contribution. She couldn't let them fall apart, couldn't let the plan fall apart, not like this. "Barry, we're going to stick with the plan of heading to Europe. Brad, I also hear you, too." She took a deep breath and stood up, walking towards them, filling the gap of the little ring they had formed. "We're gonna do both. Barry, you and Chris should head to Europe and stick with the original plan. Jill, Brad, and I will stay behind in the city and keep a lookout for information on the labs. We'll join you guys later on. How does that sound?" she asked with too much hesitance for her liking.

"No," Chris said almost too quickly. He looked at Jill, worry flashing through his eyes. "We should all stick together. I-I don't want anything to happen to you both." Brad looked as if he was about to say something, but Chris cut him off before he could. "And you, too, Brad," he added.

"Chris…" Jill whispered, hurt and emotion coiling in that one syllable. "I agree with Rebecca. I think it's best if we split up."

Chris's shoulders sagged. He and Barry both saw the firm resolve twinkle in Jill's eyes, which meant that her mind was made up. Once she was adamant about her decision, nothing could sway her otherwise. She was just stubborn like that. "Don't worry about us, guys. We'll be okay, right Rebecca?" she added with a smile.

Rebecca nodded and felt truly glad for the first time since the day she had let Billy go free. "Yeah, we weren't selected to be in S.T.A.R.S. for no reason," she reminded everyone. Gathering the metal briefcases with care, she handed two to Barry and the other two to Chris. "Take them. Get them out of the city and bring them to Europe, far away from Raccoon."

Barry and Chris accepted them without a word. They both weren't used to taking orders from an eighteen-year old, but there was a first time for everything.

Brad chimed in,. "She's right. Besides, if you can infiltrate Umrbella's systems in Europe, maybe you can provide us with some pass codes for the labs here. I'm sure the labs here are tightly secured."

Jill nodded. "I doubt we'd be coming across random keys and keycards so readily as we had in the mansion…"

Barry exhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and grinned. "Can't believe I'm actually saying this, but it sounds good to me. What about you, Chris?"

Chris looked like he still wanted to argue but decided that it was for the best if he just kept his mouth shut. He was alone in his argument. Even Barry had sided with the other three. Still, Rebecca could tell he couldn't shake the sick sensation of anger and regret if something were to happen in his absence, especially when he could have prevented it. "I'm still not okay with the idea of you three being left alone here, but I guess there's no other way around it." He turned to face Jill and gave her a tiny supportive smile. "But I guess all personal feelings aside, our main priority is still to make sure that we finish our mission, finish what we started."

Rebecca watched the silent exchange between Chris and Jill and felt a mixture of contentment and hurt sear her heart, the latter feeling like tight coils curling around her chest. God, the way they interacted reminded her so much of her partnership with Billy. She had her reservations about him in the beginning, but undoubtedly, she had grown to care deeply for him. He, in return, had become fond and protective of her. She didn't want to admit it to herself back then because it had made her heart flutter, the beats racing faster. She shouldn't be focused on _those _emotions while her main objective was to make it out of the facility alive to expose Umbrella's secrets, and not to mention, nearly her entire team had been wiped out. But who would have guessed that she'd be left with nothing but longing right now? Longing to see him, touch him to make sure he was really there, and tell him what her heart didn't understand.

It was too late for that.

But like Chris had said, it wasn't too late to finish what they had started, and right now, she would have to solely focus on that. It was the only thing she could do to keep her sanity.

* * *

Regan snapped his phone closed, and leaned into his plush leather seat, weaving a hand through his thick mass of brown hair. He rested the phone on the table and folded his hands together, closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, meditating on what he had just learned from Irons. Suddenly, his fingers curled, his hands became fists, and he felt anger run from the length of his fingertips to his chest. He should have seen it coming, but most importantly, he should have prevented it from even happening. After everything Umbrella and Spencer had done for him, he couldn't let the company be even slightly scathed. Without Umbrella, he was no one; they were one and the same.

He had ordered some soldiers from the Dunnell Marine base to scout for the whereabouts for Coen with no luck, but after the critical piece of information Irons had just exposed, Regan could almost bet his life (and he was never one to take his own life lightly) that Coen was partially responsible for intercepting the shipment. He had already found out too much during the failed mission in Africa to eliminate that village, under the pretense that there was a heavy tribal warfare that needed to be quelled. And, after discovering all the secrets within the Umbrella Research Facility in the woods, the goody-goody boy had all the intentions, motivations, and drive to take down Umbrella, but Regan would not allow that, never.

Whether any S.T.A.R.S. members were in on it or not with Coen, that didn't matter. They would meet their fatal end soon, they all would, but he personally wanted the pleasure of escorting Coen to his death sentence. A perfect ending for a chapter that shouldn't have been treaded upon. The edges of his mouth curved, a wide grin forming. This was absolutely delicious news to him.

Forget the incompetent morons at the Dunnell Marine base. No, he would send in his own men, trained Umbrella militias.

Though Regan hadn't personally acquainted himself with Billy, he knew a pest when he saw one, and Billy was a _rat._ "Perhaps I've underestimated you, Coen, but no more."

He'd hunt him down, cage him like the animal he was, and have him slaughtered for the world to see.

This time, he'd be dead, for good.

* * *

A/N: Yep, Rebecca and Jill aren't going anywhere, and neither is Brad. And as for Billy's fate…well, we gotta wait until next chapter! I just want to point out that regrouping with other S.T.A.R.S. members (assuming there are others outside of Raccoon City) was an idea taken from Perry's Resident Evil novels. I thought that was a nice touch and motivation to head to Europe. As usual, all the comments I have received have been much appreciated! Seriously, they can really brighten up a crappy day so I truly thank you for sticking with me! We're getting close to Billy/Rebecca meet up and I got a bunch of ideas to write!


	12. Chapter 12

Can't Get Up

Billy fastened the holster around his waist, and despite the comforting weight the weapons gave him, he certainly didn't feel that way inwards. He wasn't worried about his own well-being; instead, he was concerned for Brad. He really wished he had some way to communicate with Brad, just to make sure that he made it back to the city safe and sound to warn his friends about the new discovery. Billy sighed and tucked his Beretta away, taking a quick glance at the entire small shack just to make sure he hadn't left anything important behind he needed. If Brad had presented himself as a competent soldier, Billy wouldn't be feeling this apprehensive, but he had seen how Brad acted, and despite his courageous drive to change for the better, Billy knew changes did not happen overnight. He was not going to magically turn into a superhero.

But at least the Alpha member had left him with a good arsenal—a shotgun, rifle, two handguns, a flash grenade, and a sturdy holster to strap all the weapons. How he was going to avoid attention at his new destination was beyond him, but he'd figure that out when he got there, where ever that place was. Like usual, he didn't know where he was heading to, but he knew he couldn't stay here any longer. Umbrella would definitely be investigating the forest soon for the mysterious interception of their package, and he didn't want to be around when that happened.

Satisfied that he hadn't left anything of importance behind (not like he had much to start off with anyway), he figured that leaving now wasn't a bad idea at all. It was dark enough outside for him to maneuver through the shadows, and the darkness of the woods would offer him much concealment. If he moved fast, he should be able to head to his next destination point and out of Raccoon City before dawn. He moved to the window, and lifted the candlestick resting by it-

-and was about to blow out the tiny flame when he noticed something moving among the dark. Squinting, he studied the hunched figure on the ground, not too far from his shack. It appeared to be a man, an old one, and he looked almost hurt.

Frowning, Billy set the candle back down and opened his front door. At the porch of the shack, he definitely saw that the elderly man was in pain, hands clutched around his leg, head tuck toward his chest. Billy turned his gaze toward the other road, the one he was supposed to take, and shook his head. He was supposed to be moving out, but his conscience won in the end, and before he knew what he was doing, he was running toward the injured man, the weapons jingling faintly against his back.

"Hey, are you all right?" Billy asked softly on one knee, a hand on the man's shoulder.

The stranger looked up and gave a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with gratitude. "I stumbled and injured my leg," he said, standing with Billy's aid.

Under the faint moonlight, Billy noticed that the man seemed younger than he had originally thought; he wasn't sure why he suddenly took notice of that since it wasn't an important detail at all. It was dark, and he couldn't tell from a distance, big deal. Shrugging it off, Billy nodded toward the shack. "You wanna rest inside for awhile before you continue on? Where are you heading to anyway?"

"I live around here, in a small house not too far from here. Was taking a stroll and I didn't expect this to happen, thank you." The man smiled again and limped toward Billy's shack, one arm resting on Billy's bicep.

Billy parted the door wider, allowing the stranger to comfortably fit through the narrow frame first before he shut the door behind him. "Not much I got here, but make yourself at home."

"Thank you, again," the stranger replied, dropping his heavy bag before taking a seat on the small cot next to the unused fireplace. From the glow of the candlelight, Billy surmised that the man was probably in his 50's. Strands of gray hair starkly stood out among his mass of black, his wrinkles and exhaustion radiating from his aged but friendly face, his charismatic features well defined. "What's a nice young man like you doing out here? You a solider or a hunter?"

"Something like that," the Ex-Lieutenant replied smoothly, glad that he didn't have to explain why he had all sorts of weapon strapped on him. "I'm heading out." He was relieved that the elderly man didn't seem to recognize who he was, but it wasn't like he was a huge celebrity either. He was sentenced to death, but the news of it hadn't been completely heavily broadcasted. At least he was grateful for that.

"Where to?"

"No idea," Billy answered honestly. "You gonna be all right on your own? There are some bandages and medicine in the cabinet next to you, but I don't know how long it has been since they've been last touched or used.'

"Don't worry. I'm not crippled yet. I can take care of myself. Going to head out in a bit myself, too."

Billy nodded, heading toward the door and turning back just to bid a final farewell. "Take it easy."

"Wait. Could you hand me my messenger bag? It's by the door. I do want to pay you for your kindness."

Billy raised a brow. Although he could use the money for a variety of purposes, he just didn't feel right taking it from an old man. What he had done was simply out of his good and kind conscience. It was who he was, and he didn't expect to be paid for it. "Sure, but I'm going to have to decline your generous offer. It's fine." He picked up the bag and walked toward the man, tenderly placing his belonging on his lap. It was then that he caught sight of something behind the man's coat that made his heart leap to his throat. Before he could reach for his gun, a huge _crash _sounded behind him. Spinning around, he saw four cloaked figures burst through the window, tumbling into the small room. The explosion of glass and splinters rattled him for just a brief second before he was on guard again, pistol raised, sweeping it from one man to the next as they approached him with their own machine guns raised.

Billy turned back to the old man and saw that friendly smile, the very one that had deceived him, curl into an ugly smirk. The stranger stood tall, showing off that he was completely in good health and had accomplished an excellent acting performance. "Where's my standing ovation?" he laughed as he removed his jacket, the red and white of the Umbrella logo standing out prominently against his black vest.

Before Billy could even retort, he felt rough arms grabbing his own, his pistol knocked out of hand. He gritted his teeth and struggled against the hold of three men, the other one had broken from the group and was aiming his gun at him. Billy wasn't afraid to resist. If they were intent on killing him, they would have shot him by now. No, they wanted him alive, for one reason.

At that moment, the front door burst open, the entire frail frame falling from its hinges. A large booted foot kicked away the remnants, and as the figure stepped closer to the candlelight, Billy momentarily froze. The intensity of the flame flickered against the man's face, consuming it, like he had just walked out of hell fire.

"Regan…" the Billy hissed through his teeth."What the hell are you doing here?"

"Coen, isn't it obvious?" Regan chuckled, spreading his arms out, as if he were trying to encompass every beautiful detail in the room all at once. He momentarily glanced at the actor, the bait of this grand finale, and nodded toward the door. "Go get the prison convoy ready."

The elderly man nodded and threw Billy another obnoxious smirk as he made his way out.

"Speechless, aren't we, Coen?" Regan said, the words rolling out of his mouth like silk, smooth and elegant. He closed in the gap between him and the ex-lieutenant, each step slow but resonating much power and triumph. "We meet again, comrade."

Billy said nothing. He was so stunned that he didn't even notice the familiar feeling of cold metal on his wrists—the cuffs had been slapped on, and he was their prisoner, again. He was stunned but he couldn't say that this scenario hadn't crossed his mind. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but then again, who really got everything he wished for?

"You know, I had originally thought that this plan wasn't going to work because I saw you as someone who's perceptive, keen, someone with excellent judgment. Don't get me wrong, you do have all of that. But do you know your flaw?" As he stood just mere inches away from the con's face, he folded his hands behind his back as a symbol that he didn't need to keep any guard or defense. He was calling the shots here, and he would be the one to dictate Billy's life, no one else. "You're too trusting of others," Regan whispered, trying to contain himself from the excitement of uttering the counterpart to the statement. Instead, he continued, "Look at where it has gotten you…nowhere in life, except back to Death's door."

"I don't give a damn about your cryptic shit and your insane philosophy," Billy said rather calmly, much more tranquil than he had expected. Though the man before him was once his base commander, someone he had admired and looked up to, now, he was nothing but a deranged psycho. But, perhaps he had been and was still too trusting. _No! _He shook his head, clearing the mind games; Regan was just messing with him.

"You know, it's a shame that we haven't gotten acquainted. I'm sure we have much in common—we both fight for what we believe in, what we believe to be right. It's unfortunate that passionate fighters like us are on different sides. But, that doesn't matter now. In a few days, you'll just be a memory."

"Why? Because you're afraid that I'm going to expose all of Umbrella's secrets? What they had done in Africa? And you…you were working for Umbrella all along, weren't you? Securing a position at the Marine Base just to hold more influence, power…you sick bastard," Billy spat, his eyes narrowed as a surge of memories flashed through his mind—the screams in Africa, his first imprisonment, the anger and the bitter tears (that almost fell) from being unjustly scapegoated, the incident in the Arklay Woods. He allowed his body to only tremble once before he purged the recollections, each one making his stomach turn.

"No, it's because we don't need the likes of you in the new world, where a new breed of humanity will be part of a glorious utopia. Only the weak rely and depend on others, and you Coen, are so very weak,"

Billy was sure his former commander had totally lost it. He even discerned the look of perplexity on the cloaked guards' faces. Whatever. He wasn't going to argue with a nut job.

Regan wrinkled his brows together, eyes closed as if he were in deep thought. "Let me give you an example. I…believe you were very trusting towards a lady named…Chambers, Rebecca Chambers?"

Billy's head jerked up, his attention full and wide. Upon hearing her name uttered by that monster, he felt an insatiable desire to pummel the man to his death, but that fervor was only surpassed by the fear he felt rising from the pit of his stomach to his throat. He thrust himself forward, only to be repelled back by the damn Umbrella goons seizing him. If he had done anything to hurt so much as a hair on her head, he'd…

"No need to get so defensive," Regan said melodiously. "I don't think you'll be reacting the same way once I tell you the rest about…Ms. Chambers."

"What the hell do you mean?" Billy sputtered, his patience growing thin.

"Your mistake again for being so gullible," Regain whispered, his voice barely audible if Billy hadn't been so intent on finding out any little tidbit about Rebecca. "You see, your _friend, _dear Rebecca Chambers, exposed you."

Billy was sure his heartbeat had ceased for a moment and when it raced again, it was furious, quick like a gunshot to his chest, quick like how his death would be after receiving that gunshot. In a way, he already felt half of him was already dead, and as for the other half, well, he didn't know _what _he felt.

"I'm sure you know S.T.A.R.S. is finished and what's a tender eighteen-year old going to do now that she has been made out to look like a mad woman? I'll tell you what she's going to do, what she did. In exchange for money and a new start, a clean slate, she sold herself to Irons as his little whore and then sold you out."

Billy felt his entire body close in on itself, sealing him in, crushing him in a vise-like grip. That was the final stab, the final nail to his coffin, his coffin. She had represented everything he had thought to be the hope for humanity—innocence, intellect, kindness, motivation, and lastly, what he felt to be the most important, her empathy, the way she wanted so hard to understand and relate to troubles, his past. To have all that ripped from him felt excruciatingly painful to say the least among other feelings, but he was too deaden to figure them out.

_Mind games, it's all mind games, _his mind screamed at him over and over again, but he didn't find any conviction. He found…nothing.

His body fell limp against the escorts, and he never felt the grip of a shotgun slamming against his head, knocking him out and sending his consciousness to a better place, a peaceful one-comforting darkness.

* * *

The only sounds that filled the tunnel were that of hurried footsteps, the hollowness of the passageway naturally escalating the volume of their haste. Rebecca took a moment to check her watch and found that it had been a good forty minutes since they had descended into the dark and dank sewer. After three days of careful planning, they figured that the sewer near the RPD would grant them access to the underground activities beneath the RPD, most likely where the suspicious activities were taking place and where that shipment of the T-viruses was supposed to be transported to. They picked the time when the RPD would be least active, which was a little after midnight. She and Jill had been on time, but Brad was a few minutes late, but neither of them was surprised. He had always known to be quite tardy.

The underground passage twisted and turned awkwardly and if it hadn't been for the map that they sketched out, Rebecca knew that they would have invested much time just maneuvering around the sewage system. Even with the map, they found it slightly difficult to navigate, but that was to be expected, considering Umbrella needed to conceal an illegal laboratory.

Jill paused, her back flat against the wall. She turned around and waited for Rebecca and Brad to reach her before she spoke. "I think we may be close. The routes are ending."

The female Alpha member had taken the lead with Rebecca behind her and Brad as rear security. Rebecca lowered her handgun and took a deep breath, using the brief moment of reprieve to rejuvenate herself. Half way from where they were now, they had been attacked by a small pack of mutated canines, just like the ones they had seen in the mansion. No doubt that Umbrella's lab was close, but whether those dogs were let out by accident or were purposely stationed to guard the facility, she wasn't sure. Still, she didn't like it one bit. Two days after Chris and Barry left for Europe, taking the T-viruses with them, the newspaper spurred another newsflash. Apparently, there had been sightings of the canines and what resembled to be a "green monster akin to an overgrown amphibian" roaming around town, the latter she knew as the Hunter, another creature she had the pleasure of acquainting within the mansion.

That meant only one thing: the monsters and worse, the virus, were making their way into the city. If they were not dealt with, well, she didn't want to think about the casualties.

"I-I'm ready," Brad stammered, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Rebecca couldn't blame Chickenheart Vickers for being scared because her heart was pounding rapidly against her chest. However, she did have to credit him for being rather heroic throughout their little journey. She had noticed that he paid close attention to her, always standing beside her, working with her as they alternated plugging rounds into the creatures. She had to admit that they worked rather well as a team, but at the same time, it made her feel a little awkward, a little incompetent. He had been much more perceptive of her than Jill, and she couldn't help but feel that it was because Jill was more than capable of handling any rough situation on her own, her maturity and skills far surpassing hers. Simply put, Jill kicked ass and didn't need a bodyguard, all her shots critical and carefully executed. She, on the other hand, just wasn't quite on par. Yeah, that must be it.

"Rebecca?" Jill asked, frowning when she saw the look of contemplation on her face after waving her flashlight toward her eyes.

Rebecca shook her head, clearing it of thoughts that she could dwell on later. Now was not the time. "Oh, sorry. I'm ready, too."

Jill looked at her for a few moments longer before nodding, taking off again as the team's self-proclaimed leader. They made two more turns to the right, jogged down a long corridor, and made a left, and finally…they faced a giant white door, drawn shut together with the Umbrella logo emblazoned boldly, almost in an intimidating manner. Above them, there was a faint beam bathing them in an eerie glow.

"Check for hidden cameras," Jill hissed, a surge of excitement pumping through her as she swept her handgun up and down at all corners.

If they needed to take them out, now was the time.

"All clear," Rebecca whispered. If there were one, it was either deeper in the complex or too hidden, but that was why they had all worn black from head to toe and black caps and goggles to conceal their faces. If they weren't on such a dangerous mission, Rebecca thought that they might even look rather…cute; it'd be a pretty cool Halloween costume.

"It's really here…no lie," Brad breathed, stepping forward to run his gloved fingers over the surface of the door, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing unless he felt it. "Do you think we can get in?"

Jill shook her head after studying the panel on the right. There was a tiny screen and a keypad beneath it, and a small, narrow aperture, probably used to read keycards. "Negative. Just like we thought, it's locked by a security card and a pass code, and we have neither."

"Damn…I guess we're going to have to wait awhile to see if Barry or Chris came across anything that could be of some help to us," Brad said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Rebecca could have sworn she heard relief in Brad's tone. A part of her expected that from the coward, but the other told her there was something different about him. Again, she felt his eyes training on her, as if she was his responsibility for the night. Shaking the eerie sensation it brought her, she added, "But it's not like we came down here for nothing. We've confirmed out suspicions, that there really is a lab down here, and there could possibly be more in the city.

"That's right. There's nothing we can do here except to conduct more investigations on our own and hear from Chris and Barry." Jill took one last look at the door, taking the entire mass in with one still glance.

They all hated parting, not when they were so close, not when all the answers they needed were waiting for them right behind the white gates, but it was better to play it safe than stupid. One wrong move and they would be out of the game, out of the war, permanently. It wasn't like they were heavily equipped right now to take on the unexpected anyway. Tonight was more for inspection than anything, to test the waters, to see if the lab really existed or if it was just part of their imaginations.

And they got their answer.

"Let's get out of here," Jill stated in her most authoritative voice, sounding too much like Barry, and started back the way they'd come.

They would just have to save the grand finale for another day.

* * *

A/N: We're getting closer and closer to the meet up! I thought I would make things more interesting if Billy was under a different impression of Rebecca. _ I know it was evil, don't hate me! Hope this was a decent chapter! As always, reviews are very appreciated and I thank each and every one of you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

Worth Fighting For

Jill closed her laptop, her lips a thin, grim line. From her expression, Rebecca already knew the answer to her own question.

"No response?" she asked softly.

"None," Jill whispered with a sigh as she pushed the laptop away.

Both of the women didn't want to be reminded that it had been three days and there was still no response from Chris and Barry in Europe—no messages, no phone calls. Chris and Barry had sent Jill an e-mail the day they arrived, but when she asked if they knew anything about the pass codes and keycards after the investigation in the sewers, there had been no responses—not even a simple "No."

Rebecca could see the creases of worry on Jill's forehead as the older woman brushed her hair back, closing her eyes to calm her nerves. She wished she could find something to say to make Jill feel better, knowing that she cared about Chris more than what she'd like to admit; it was somewhat like the way Rebecca did with Billy. But, she couldn't find any words of consolation. Instead, she placed a hand on her shoulder and waited until she gathered her thoughts, ready to speak.

"Do you think Chris was right? Maybe we should have gone with them? What if they're in trouble?" Jill spoke, her voice cracking with each word, the volume and speed rising, too.

"Don't think that. They're probably doing their own investigations right now," she said, trying to sound convinced as she thought. Chris and Barry knew how to take care of themselves. They were strong people, and if they survived the Mansion Incident, this wasn't going to stop them. _But Billy survived, too, and now he's… _As usual, her mind was usually playing Devil's advocate, but she didn't let that little voice complete the rest of that statement. It still hurt her, and she wasn't sure how long it was going to take her to get over it. Possibly never. Fighting was her only distraction from the pain, and sleep was the only solace she had—only if she didn't have nightmares though, but those nights were very limited.

"I suppose you're right. I just wish we could do something right now instead of waiting. Everyday, there are more mysterious creatures appearing…" Jill got up from her seat and walked toward her window.

Rebecca traced her line of vision. It was a bright day, and Jill's apartment presented a stunning panoramic view of the city life beneath them. It was hard to imagine that in the midst of this seemingly normal life, the supernatural and evil were all around, striking when people least expected to be targeted. She saw that there were only a few children playing at the small playground down her block. Usually, the park would be full at this time, but with the recent sightings reported in the papers, it was only natural to assume that parents didn't feel safe letting their kids out.

"Rebecca, I'm scared that…"

"Jill, me too." Rebecca stood up, and as she walked toward the window to join her friend, she felt the dog tags jingle slightly against her chest. The sound, the weight of the small memento brought her a great wave of comfort and strength, and God knew she needed them, they all did. Blocking out the images of the flesh-eating monsters that had taken the lives of her friends proved to be difficult each day. She never wanted to see them again, but here they were, roaming through the shadows of the city. "How about this? If we don't hear from them in a few more days, we'll head out to Europe, too."

"What? What about the city?"

Rebecca grinned. "But if we stay here without answers from Chris and Barry, we can't do anything either. Who knows? Maybe they're just waiting for us girls to head there to get the job done right. Then, we can come back to Raccoon and shut down the labs."

Her comment made Jill giggle, and hearing the laughter helped put Rebecca at some ease as well. After a few more days with still no answer, they would have to set out to find out what was going on, see for themselves. She just hoped that it wouldn't be too late, that Chris and Barry would be all well and excited to see them with open arms, but scolding them at the same time for not trusting that they'd get the job done.

Jill smiled and caressed Rebecca's hair. "When did you become so strong?"

Rebecca returned the smile but said nothing. _When I met Billy…_

_

* * *

_

He had thought meeting her was one of the greatest blessings in his life, but that was prior to three days ago when everything still felt right despite the crazy whirlwind of complications surrounding him. At least he had felt he had a purpose, that everything he was doing and made Brad did was for the welfare of the denizens of Raccoon, for the remaining S.T.A.R.S. survivors, and for her. Now, nothing made sense. Ever since he was young, he believed there were three types of people in the world—the ones who were super lucky and never had to work for a damn thing in their lives, the normal ones carrying about their normal lives, and finally, the ones who were just simply cursed—and that was him. Year after year, it was just one bullshit after another. What was the purpose of even living anymore? This life wasn't even worth living, much less worth fighting for.

Now that he thought long and hard about it, he was angry that his MP transport vehicle had been intercepted along the way to his execution site that night. Billy Coen should have died sometime between July 22nd and July 25th, not alive and suffering a month and a half later. His death would have been painful but quick, nothing compared to the agony, the poison taking over his mind, soul, and spirit.

He knew he certainly didn't show it on the outside. His gaze was stern and cold, his jaws locked tightly, and he didn't say a single thing when he came to and found himself strapped in the black vehicle that was on the road to his doom. He had heard the comments, the sneers from the Umbrella soldiers, the shit they were saying about him, but he never once made an attempt to retaliate. He didn't give a dam about their words. It was only Regan's that shook his core, which played over and over again in his mind like the haunting of an angry spirit.

Where he was now, he didn't know. Probably a few states away from Raccoon. They had been driving for three days now, and he could only assume that they were close to the "special 'copter" that was supposed to transport him to the execution site—most likely Ragithon. Billy had heard that much from the guards in the midst of his own dark thoughts. He didn't understand why they needed to go all out for his execution. Seriously? What was he to them? Did they really need to drive him to a helipad and then fly him first-class to his death? Why not just beat the shit out of him right now? But, he suppose that wouldn't be as glamorous as publicizing his death live, humiliating him, taking away every shred of his dignity and pride, and everything that made him…him.

Fair enough.

Three days, and the only thing on his mind was oddly not his execution, but Rebecca. An internal war had waged inside him, and he was torn by what to believe. It hadn't hit him at the moment Regan confessed about Rebecca's betrayal, but as the long hours passed as he sat idly in the car, the hopeful thought that there was a chance Regan was messing with him emerged. He didn't know Regan very well, but he knew the man was bad news due to his affiliation with Umbrella. _And what makes you think you know Rebecca well? You guys spent a few hours together, and can you honestly say that is enough to fully understand someone? Her motives? _No matter how hard he wanted to believe that he knew Rebecca well enough, he didn't. And then the excuses came—_Can you really blame her? She wants to put her life back together, and maybe the only way to do so is at your expense. You want to fault her for looking after herself? _Could he really be angry with her? Honestly, at the moment he really didn't know, but he did know that if there were one thing he could do before he faced his death, it would be to see her again—to get all the answers, or else he didn't know if he could ever rest in peace.

Regan hadn't spoken throughout the entire ride either, except to occasionally bark some commands at his subordinates. Perhaps that was why Billy was so surprised when the commander suddenly picked up his phone, answering it with a thick and heavy voice. With a raise of his hand, the vehicle was pulled to a screeching halt. Before the car even jerked forward, Billy had his leg out, braced for the impact. The cynical side in him let out a chuckle as he saw the Umbrella soldiers flying forward, grabbing fist full of air as they landed artlessly on the floor.

"You think this is funny?" One of the guards turned around, his face red with embarrassment and shame, and struck out a fist. The punch collided with Billy's jaw, sending a surge of hot pain spiking beneath his skin. He felt two trickles of blood land on his thigh and looked just as stoic and frozen as he always had, which didn't please the guard at all. Billy noticed that he was going to launch his fist again, and he prepared himself for another blow, but it never came.

"I have to head out," Regan spoke gravely. "You make sure you get him to the destination or else it'd be your bodies buried." If he hadn't sounded solemn enough, his eyes betrayed the depths of his seriousness.

A chorus of unanimous agreement followed by nods surrounded him, everyone obedient and wise enough to not question his authority. Billy knew they were trained to carry out orders, not ask questions, not even when their curiosities had been piqued. Regan stepped out of the vehicle, not turning back to look at the prisoner. His entire movement was tense and so was his scrunched face. The vehicle shook and took off, leaving behind an enigma that Billy wanted to figure out.

He craned his neck as the figure in the trench coat became smaller and smaller, the distance between them growing wider. What the hell happened that made him suddenly leave so urgently? Wasn't he just _dying _to personally escort him to his grave himself?

Luckily, the guards had been thinking the same thing.

One of the goons spoke up. "What the hell was all that about?"

The driver, the 'actor,' chuckled, a dry and almost sadistic laugh escaping from his throat. "I think I got an idea of what's goin' on. Rumor has it that Umbrella was trying to steal the G-virus from Birkin. Caused an accident in the process, a biohazard you may say. You boys should have bid him farewell. Don't think that old man's coming back after he goes back into the city."

The entire mobile became silent, and Billy could see his own fear on the faces of the guards. A biohazard? In Raccoon? He swallowed, tried to wash out the knot that was constricting his throat. He felt a sudden primal hatred for Umbrella, the rage potent enough to almost possess him. What he almost hated more was the fact that out of everyone who was in danger in the city, Brad included, Rebecca entered his mind as soon as he heard the word "biohazard." No doubt she was still in the city, working as _Irons's little whore_ as Regan had so crudely put. Did she know? Would she get out in time before the city was going to become another chapter of madness akin to the horrors they had faced in Arklay?

It really shouldn't be his concern right now. He was far from Raccoon, about three days' drive from the city. However, he couldn't deny that despite how much Rebecca's betrayal killed him, there was still a small part of him that was alive and burning, fuelling with the need to right the wrong. He couldn't believe it, but he still _cared_. He still cared for the strangers whom he had never met, the lives of the innocents, justice, and somewhere buried deep down beneath the ashes of his burnt soul, Rebecca.

_Only the weak rely and depend on others, and you Coen, are so very weak._

Regan was right. It infuriated him to realize that his enemy knew him better than he knew himself. Why couldn't he detach himself from everyone? If he did, he wouldn't feel this tortured right now.

God, when was he ever going to learn his lesson?

"Irons's little whore…" he mumbled, reminding himself of who she had become, and perhaps, who she always had been. But the words tasted bitter as they awkwardly flowed off his tongue. It just didn't _seem _right. His logic argued that there was no mistake when Regan made his revelation, but his heart had tried to convince him otherwise. Billy had always been a firm believer in logic and reason, never the whimsical emotions that seeped from the heart so he couldn't explain why he suddenly felt so compelled to believe in the latter now. He was just probably desperate, grabbing at any lie far from the hurtful truth. _Stop fucking around, _his mind angrily scolded, disappointed in his lapse of judgment.

"I don't understand why you guys are so petrified. We're far from Raccoon. Whatever shit's going on down there isn't going to hit us," the driver said when he noticed no one made an effort to comment. "We're almost there," he said to change the subject.

Billy's downcast eyes shot up. In the distance ahead, the road split into two, the right leading to a helipad, and guarded by sleek, tall blades of grass, was a small 'copter. The blades were revving, slicing through the air as the roar of the engines made everything seem alive and real again. It was all set and ready to go as soon as he, the passenger boarded. At the door of the plane, the Umbrella logo was visibly glaring at him, mocking him. It was at that moment that he felt revived, a sudden burst of energy recovering all his inner wounds like a miraculous elixir. He knew this moment of invincibility was only temporarily, but it offered just the push he needed to get where he needed to be.

The driver had said that Regan wasn't going to come out of Raccoon City alive, and Billy didn't doubt that after he saw the causalities in Arklay. To have that projected and magnified in the city was almost unimaginable. He'd have to be there to see it all. Well, it looked like his mind was already made up.

They were all pulled to another rough stop and then all the doors flew open. With tremendous force, Billy was roughly dragged out, a rush of gentle summer breeze cooling his sweaty face. He only managed to relish in the freedom after being imprisoned in a dark hot vehicle for only a few seconds before he was led away, ushered like an animal. He did not allow his face to reflect any emotions. If they wanted the satisfaction of making him feel tortured and humiliated, he wasn't gong to give it to them. They'd have to earn it.

As he walked, he felt an indention in his pocket, and realized that he had secured a flash grenade there. They had removed his holster and his weapons, and since he hadn't seen them in the transport, he guessed that they must have left them at the shack after he was knocked out. _But they haven't found this. I better make it worthwhile…_he thought, the edge of his mouth twitching to a grin. Billy followed the lead obediently and quietly until he was just a few feet away from the door of the plane.

And that was when he summoned every bit of energy left in his tired body, channeling all of it into his arms. On the silent count of three, he parted his arms as quickly and strongly as he could, splitting the cuffs around his wrists and knocking the filthy arms of the Umbrella goons away from shoulders. He kept moving, didn't even allow himself the chance to wince as he felt the skin around his wrist tearing, blood breaking from the bruises. Before the guards could even react, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the flash grenade and broke into a thunder-quick run, the grass whipping rather sharply against his bare skin. He heard the gunshots behind him, but from the apparent misses, Billy knew that they had the aim of a blind person. He jumped on to the ledge of the 'copter, turned around, and threw the grenade. A moment later, a powerful white beam of light sliced through the day, engulfing the small radius below him. In between the screeches that exploded with the brilliant light, he heard the screams of the troopers below, and that made him smile. The tables had unmistakably turned.

Billy sent a silent thanks to Brad and took advantage of the little time he had just bought to examine the panel in front of him. It had been awhile since he had piloted a helicopter, but luckily, he had excellent memory and dexterous fingers. A minute later, he was strapped in and lifted into the air. It was ironic that the very transportation that was supposed to take him away was his ticket to freedom.

His destination was already set, but he'd have to make one stop at the old shack to pick up his weapons. Then, he would be on his merry way to Raccoon City, or what was going to be left of it by the time he arrived.

At least on this route to death, he'd get some answers.

* * *

Brad lit a cigarette. He had quit for his own health a few years ago, told himself that he would be fine without them.

And he didn't, until now.

He exhaled, a thin smoky trail exiting his mouth and dispersing into the cool, dark night. From his bedroom window in his tiny apartment, he could see the RPD proudly erected at the center of town, the safe haven for all troubles, the beacon of light that guided the lost. Oh, how the residents were deceived. It had been over a month since he had stepped foot into the precinct and even longer since he had been a S.T.A.R.S. member. Of course, logically it would make sense to get rid of his issued uniform since he was no longer associated with the force, but he just couldn't let go. He hugged his tactical vest close to him, taking comfort in the protection and memories it offered him.

Just because he was no longer part of the squad, that didn't mean that all S.T.A.R.S. members were bad. Barry had said that once he and Chris got to Europe, they would regroup with some ST.A.R.S. fighters who hadn't been bribed by Umbrella yet to cover their conspiracy. That had been the plan, but he had no idea where his two friends were at now. They hadn't contacted him, Jill, and Rebecca. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't calm down the two ladies. How could he encourage that Barry and Chris were all right when they were all walking on a fine line of risks?

It was all a game of risks to begin with. Risking their safeties, their futures, their lives…

Chris and Barry had taken the first leap of faith by going to Europe, and he, Jill, and Rebecca were going to follow in their footsteps.

That was until they found out that Raccoon had been barricaded, all exits sealed. No buses, planes, trains leaving the city, nothing. Not even walking was permissible.

No one knew how and when it happened, but in the course of a week or so, the virus had rapidly spread. Every night, more and more people disappeared, only to reappear again with the need to feed on the living. The police had tried to contain the situation by doing the only thing they could—shooting the monsters point blank in their heads. It was the only thing they knew how to do. They weren't trained for a biohazard, S.T.A.R.S. was. Brad cynically smirked, wondering what Irons was thinking right about now.

"Bastard should have thought about who's going to take care of his city before he got rid of all of us…"

He, Jill, and Rebecca had done their best to aid the police force in taking down the virus carriers, but there was no doubt that the job would have been carried out much more quickly and efficiently if Alpha and Bravo were here, and as much as he hated to admit it, if Wesker were leading them. He didn't like the idea of just taking down all the infected people to prevent the virus from spreading. It was not going to prevent the virus from spreading, just delay it momentarily. Until the reinforcements kicked in, people would just do what they usually did when an epidemic struck—carry on with their lives normally. Without the arrival of outside aid, they were all royally screwed.

In spite of all this, Brad felt relatively calm as he took another drag of his cigarette, the nicotine relaxing his trembling nerves.

But that was until he heard screams erupting from below his apartment window followed by a chain of low moans. He heard crunching, chewing, the howl of death, and then the tears came, the harsh truth sinking in.

They were trapped within the unfolding of a Necropolis.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading as usual! Billy/Rebecca meet-up will be in the next chapter, finally! I hope you all have a lovely Thanksgiving. Haha, I know what I'm thankful for, and that's including you guys, my readers, and of course, RE.


	14. Chapter 14

The Fall of Raccoon

**Monday, September 28th, late afternoon**

Rebecca took one look outside her apartment window and knew she didn't want to go back out and face the sea of death. She still wasn't quite sure how it all happened, but it had happened—all at once, fully encompassing like a tsunami rising from the calm seas, sweeping away everything in its path, drowning humanity and lives. In the corner of her dark room was her suitcase, a reminder that her ass would have been out of the country by now if it hadn't been for the blockades around the city five days ago. She, Jill, and Brad were supposed to be in Europe, figuring what went wrong on Chris and Barry's end, not this. This wasn't the plan—she was not supposed to be stuck in her apartment room, ravaging for all her spare weapons and healing kits in the midst of the war against the undead. They all had been fighting for the past few days now, salvaging whatever ammunition they could find, rescuing survivors if there were any, but the numbers were decreasing. The chaos had escalated and reached its pinnacle two days ago, the virus spreading like wild fire, knowing no mercy for everyone in its path.

She, Jill, and Brad had fought alongside RPD, but their combined efforts were hardly enough to even alleviate a fraction of the destruction. She hadn't seen it yet, but she heard from Brad that the safety blockade built around the RPD had been torn down, and the zombies had made their way in. They waited for reinforcements, but none came. And though she was hit with the realization that the city was doomed, that they were all on their own, no tears came. Yes, she was scared, trembling from sheer terror, but that seemed to be working in her favor at the moment. She had been waiting for a fight, and now she got her wish. She would see Umbrella pay for what they had done, and for her to witness Umbrella's fall, she'd have to fight to make it out of this new nightmare first.

Protecting the citizens had been their first priority, but not anymore, not when there was hardly anyone left in the city that hadn't succumbed to the virus.

"Farewell to everything, to my home…" she whispered to herself, the grip of her Samurai Edge firmly between her fingers. She grabbed her fanny pack filled with medical supplies from her old S.T.A.R.S uniform and strapped it around her waist, above the studded belt of her black, leather pants. Out of all the outfits she had in her closet, the one she was wearing now offered her the most comfort and freedom for movement. It was an outfit she had found in a guest closet on the Ecliptic Express—a burgundy, leather halter top that came with matching evening gloves that spanned above her elbows and black, leather pants with two belts wrapped tightly around her hips. She had taken the outfit at the time because she thought she might have needed to change out of her uniform, but since there was no need for that, she had brought it home with her. And now, here she was, adorned in the sexy attire, looking as if she was about to go clubbing when she was supposed to be fighting for her life, for her last escape.

_No time to change, gotta get out of here, _she thought. At least her holster would be able to secure her bare back so she'd just have to deal with her midriff bared until she made it to the police station to see if there were any spare armors laying around. After taking another look at the swarm outside her apartment, she tucked her handgun away and retrieved her machine gun. Since she wanted to conserve as much ammo as possible, she'd have to dodge and move extremely fast, but in the event that she got cornered, she guessed the machine gun would be more effective against the horde. She double-checked just to make sure she had everything she needed, everything she risked her ass to come back home to get—her medical kit, herb mixing kit, radio, handguns, a machine gun, plenty of magazines, and last but not least, her faith and determination.

She cast one last look around her living room, the tiny but humble place she had come to call home for quite some time. It was hard to put everything she owned behind her; there were so many things that brought her good memories—everything from reports she had proudly written, to Snowball, to pictures of her S.T.A.R.S. friends. She smiled ruefully. Yes, she couldn't bring them with her but they would always have a place in her heart.

The low chorus of moans outside the lobby door soon drowned the sound of her black boots racing heavily down the stairs. She tried to steady her breath as she made for the back exit of her apartment building, ignoring but not forgetting the rotting faces pressed against the glass door of the front entrance. She heard the glass cracking and it would only be a matter of perhaps seconds before they burst through. _Move, move, move_, her mind screamed, forcing her to push forward. It was when she shoved her shoulder against the backdoor and felt the cool, brisk wind hit her cheeks that she heard glass shattering behind her. Without even turning back, she knew the zombies had broken through. She slammed the door shut behind her and moved a stack of wooden crates against it, hoping that it would ward them off for a bit longer, buying her just enough time for her to race across the street without any distractions.

Rebecca ran, her short hair bobbing with her motion, bangs in her eyes. Up ahead, she saw that the street was relatively clear, and she was relieved. She thought that this was a good time to contact Jill, to make sure she was all right and to confirm the plan again. Pulling out her radio, she waited for Jill's signal. "Jill, it's Rebecca. Over."

She waited, one moment, then two, three, four and five. Nothing but silence and heavy static on Jill's end. "Jill! Can you hear me?" She didn't realize she was practically screaming now, her own heartbeat quickening. "Jill!"

Still nothing. She frowned, wondering what she should do now. They had agreed to meet at the police station with Brad in about forty minutes since her departure from Jill's apartment. Rebecca checked her watch and realized that she had about fifteen minutes to spare, which left her probably just enough time to run back to Jill's apartment to check if she was all right before running to the RPD. Luckily, the distance between her apartment and Jill's and the RPD was pretty close, and if she ran, she would definitely be able to cover both locations.

"I hope you're all right, Jill…" Rebecca said, and then she was on her feet again, moving through the darkness.

No more than a few minutes later, Rebecca saw a small platoon of men wearing heavy military gear and felt a rush of excitement. If outside reinforcements had been called in, there was a good chance they could all make it out of the city, alive. She quickly hurried to the small group, noticing that they could use an extra hand at fending off a wave of the infected coming at them behind a blockade of piled vehicles, a decent defense. However, her initial relief turned into hesitation and alarm when she noticed the logos emblazoned on the back of the men's Kevlar vests, a logo she knew all too well: the red and white umbrella.

_Why are Umbrella's men here? _

Whatever the reason, she didn't want to know. She just knew she had to get away from them as soon as possible.

The firing stopped and one of them, a handsome, young soldier turned around just in time to catch Rebecca's eye.

"Hey!" he cried, his surprised tone and Spanish accent didn't go unnoticed by Rebecca, but she was already on her feet again, dashing away. The last thing she wanted was to be captured by Umbrella. They were probably sent into the city to eliminate anyone who knew of the experiments that had caused this 'incident.'

* * *

"Wait!" Carlos yelled. He started to run after the young girl, who looked no older than twenty and seemed to be headed for the doomed police station until a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Nikolai Ginovaef, leader of the U.B.C.S., shook his head, his aged face wearing no concern about the civilian who had just run into the shadows. "Forget about it. We can't spend our time chasing after one civilian."

"But isn't that our job! To rescue the civilians?" Carlos argued. "Looks like she's headed for the police station and you know that place is a goner! We have to stop her."

"Carlos, our team is down to only a few soldiers. We need to recuperate before heading out. That's an order," Nikolai replied sternly.

Carlos looked at his worn teammates, sweat and cuts staining their skin, their guns wet with fresh, sticky blood. He then glanced in the direction the girl had run off in and looked away uneasily, knowing that Nikolai was probably right. Without a team, they wouldn't be saving anyone.

* * *

Jill had just enough time to grab all the weapons she needed, loaded them, before the floor of her room shook, the ground taking on a life of its own. She held on to her windowsill for support, and that was when she realized that she had forgotten to pack her specially issued S.T.A.R.S. radio, which was resting on her bed. She let go and ran toward her bed, her arms extending for the small device-

-and then she found herself suspended in air, being thrown in the opposite direction, forced out of her window as a giant heat wave bathed over her. She had to shield her eyes from the blinding orange and red lights that appeared in front of her all at once, and it was only when she felt an agonizing pain rip through her back that she managed to fully open her eyes and take notice that her apartment building had just been blown up. She only had a moment to catch her breath before burnt faces appeared at the gaping hole of what remained of her apartment building. Seconds later, she saw the bodies that matched those faces moving towards her, their arms outreached, expressions perpetually disfigured.

Jill lifted herself up, not even caring that she had just been tossed out of her apartment room and was lucky enough to have survived the explosion AND the fall. What she did care about was that she had stupidly forgotten to take her radio with her, the only source of communication she had with the rest of the survivors in town. She was supposed to be heading for the RPD right about now, but the flames and monsters that looked as if they had just crawled out of Hell now cut off the path. She turned, and behind her was the only route that was free. It would eventually lead into a warehouse, but once she got back to the streets, she'd be able to find another path to the RPD, albeit it was going to take her _much _longer.

_Shit, _was the only thought that came to mind as the crowd of undead moved closer. Ignoring the pain, she forced her legs to move. This was her last escape, and she'd be damned if she failed.

* * *

The young Bravo member kept turning around, making sure she was not being followed by the Umbrella soldier she had ran into. This was a really, really bad time to get caught. She'd have to remember to inform Jill and Brad that they were in deeper trouble than they'd thought. She was almost at Jill's apartment when she felt her heart stop upon noticing shadows of bright flames dancing on the collapsed walls that used to be part of her building. Rebecca ran until she couldn't go any further, her path cut off by a fence of fire.

She helplessly watched in horror as thick tendrils of smoke filled the air around Jill's apartment, the blaze of the fire permeating in all directions, and felt her knees grow weak. Then she was on the floor, her hands on her lap as she vulnerably stared with wide, bleary eyes at the remnants of the apartment building and the strips of fire surrounding it. There was no way she'd be able to go through that fire unless she found another way to Jill's street.

"JILL!" she yelled, only to have her own desperate voice thrown back at her in the vast evening. _What if she's hurt? What if she's trapped in there? I gotta find her…_

"Rebecca!"

Her name came out croaked, whoever called her was having a hard time breathing among the thick smoke.

Her first thought was that the Umbrella soldier she had run into earlier had found her.

She turned around, gun readied in her hand, but when she saw whom it was, a huge relief washed over her. "Brad!" she said, standing up, running up to him and gently holding his arm to make sure he was all right. There were some small cuts and bruises lining his skin, nothing too serious, but if they weren't treated, they could be a problem later on. "Let me-"

Brad shook his head and pulled back his arm. "Forget it, we have to head to the station and stock up on everything we can."

"Yes, but what about Jill? Her apartment-"

"I think she's all right. I was just on the other side of that fire, on her street, and though I didn't see her, I saw empty shells on the floor, and this…" He reached into his vest pocket and produced one of Jill's favorite Berettas. "She must have dropped it when she was running, which means she's still alive and probably waiting for us."

Rebecca's face lit up and she suddenly felt an invigorated high take over her, and then it was she who was pulling Brad by the arm, running towards the station. Fortunately, the road to the station was a rather easy one. There were a few shambling zombies, but none that they couldn't easily bypass. She tried to focus on anything else but the groans, and even the sound of her own rapid breathing and the jingling of her weapons offered her much ease; it was a constant reminder that she was still alive and breathing, two things she would have ordinarily taken for granted, but today, they were a gift from the gods.

"Come on!" Brad kicked the gates of the RPD open, the screeching sound of the parting bringing a chill down her spine. This place had once been home to him and his late comrades, but now, it was nothing but a checkpoint in their escape.

Rebecca swallowed her bile as soon as she stepped foot into the tiny courtyard of the RPD. Bodies of dead cops were strewn all over, blood smearing in all directions, ending nowhere. The smell of death was nauseating, but she held it in, knowing she had to remain strong. She couldn't fall apart now, not when their escape had just merely begun. "Let's head inside," she suggested, the dead bodies sending small quakes all over her body. However, it was after she said that that she started to wonder if it was any safer inside than outside.

Brad nodded, but before they could reach the steps of the RPD, an earth-shattering sound erupted behind them after the gates screeched. Someone or something had entered.

_STAAAAAARRRRS!_

Rebecca jumped and reflexively turned around, poised in the classic shooting stance. But what she saw made her knees watery, all the colors draining from her face.

Standing in front of the gate was an abomination she didn't know could exist. It looked like it had once been a man before he had undergone the cruelest of all experiments. The humanoid figure resembled a much more formidable Tyrant, reaching an impressive and daunting height of almost eight feet, its enormous platform boots making it appear even taller. Its thick mass of body made of burnt flesh and synthetic muscles was clad beneath a dark, leather trench coat secured with thick buckles, and the exposed parts of its neck were guarded by slick, long, purple tentacles that had a life of their own. They coiled from the monster's abnormally massive and long arms to its bulky neck, and seemed to end at its back, fanning out behind its human-sized head. However, there was nothing remotely human about its charred and serrated face with countless tiny scars etched within it. Only one tiny slit for an eye showed, the right side completely concealed behind staples that traveled diagonally across its face, like someone had become too lazy and just sewed up the other half of the hellish patchwork. The mouth of the creature stretched unfeasibly wide, even devouring the indentation of its nose. Two rows of huge teeth, each about the size of Rebecca's thumb, bared through the gaping maw, fleshy gums projecting from ripped, burnt skin around the frame of the jaw. And then the rows of teeth parted as it screamed for her and Brad, its tentacles lunging her way. She didn't know what the _hell _it was, but was certain that this was her Nemesis.

Before she could even react, two meaty tentacles caught her waist and chest, cinching her until she could feel the air being crushed in her lungs. Her vision was becoming blurry fast, and she knew that her consciousness was slipping like quick sand. Though she couldn't see it, she heard the shots ring out rather deafening against her faint senses. Suddenly, she was no longer compressed by the force, her body free but soaring until something painfully broke her fall—the bloody wall of the RPD.

* * *

Brad relentlessly opened fired at the creature until its tentacles slithered in what he assumed to be pain, releasing Rebecca before discarding her battered body. Now, that thing was coming for _him_. Brad continuing squeezing the trigger as he backed away. The spent shells landed like a sheet of rain but the monster didn't even flinch at the damage. This was bad.

He finally stopped, only for a moment to steal a glance at Rebecca, who was lying face down on the cement. He wanted to run up to her and check for a pulse, to make sure she was still alive, but not now. The killer would have them both killed in an instant—so he did the only thing he was good at: run.

_Gotta run, gotta lure it away from Rebecca. Be okay, Rebecca! _he silently prayed as he bolted through the gates, and to both his relief and dismay, the heavy footsteps of his executioner stormed after him.

* * *

It couldn't have been more than three minutes when she had seen Brad race out of the station, with Nemesis hot on his heels. She had tried to stand up, wanted to help Brad take down Nemesis, but her hand never reached her machine gun. In fact, she couldn't even budge, the initial shock and pain of the blow dealt on her paralyzing her. She was trying her best to remain conscious, refusing to succumb to the darkness, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay awake. Her last thought before all the pain died was that she was truly alone in this nightmare. Brad was most likely going to be killed by Nemesis, Jill was nowhere to be found, and Billy was not going to be here for her this time.

No one was going to help her now.

* * *

Billy literally threw himself over a pile of crates and shoulder-rolled into a dark alleyway just as the barrel he had shot obliterated, a huge ball of hot flames tumbling straight, knocking back two row of zombies He inserted a new clip into his M92F as soon as the explosion died, ready to take down any stubborn walkers who were still up for more after being singed. He exited the alley, heading for the path he had been taking when he came across a lucky shot to an oil can that saved him an ample amount of bullets. None of the undead stood up, except for one who was crawling to him with a partially detached arm.

Billy walked past it calmly, but not before he grinded his boot into its elbow, snapping the limb in half. He ran down the block and was relieved to find he was drawing closer to his destination.

After he had stolen the 'copter, he immediately set a direct course for the small shack he had stayed in to gather all the weapons Brad had left him, and thank God he did because his life had depended on them. Just as the sun was starting to set, he had made it into Raccoon City, no, more like what was left of it. Up in air, he had a bird eye's view of all the madness ensuing beneath him. He had flown past the barricades set up outside the city, probably by the military to quarantine the infected to make sure the lethal virus wouldn't spread further. From above, he had seen buildings collapsing, people and vehicles tossed in the air, gunshots appearing and disappearing, and naturally, the endless, undulating waves of the staggering infected. He wouldn't have believed that any of this was real, would have thought his own eyes were playing tricks on him if he hadn't heard the cacophony of terror, of the screams.

He could have easily turned back and flown anywhere he wanted to go, but if he had wanted to do that, he would have never even had headed towards Raccoon to begin with. Truly, there had to be something wrong with his sanity if he wanted to land in the city after seeing the fray, to want to be a part of it. Yes, perhaps he had actually lost his mind, but one thing was for certain—he hadn't lost his sight on what he had come here to accomplish. If he was going to die, so be it, but he wasn't about to when his mind wasn't set at peace. That was just something he couldn't live with.

_And what makes you think you're going to find your answer here? _

It could all be a lost cause, a hopeless chase, but he knew he still had to try, because if he didn't, he knew was going to regret it.

And Billy didn't want to have any more regrets.

He was exhausted, his body weak and sore from running away from one deadly encounter after another, but what was driving him to move on was the fact that he knew he was getting closer to where he needed to be, the place where she was most likely at at this very moment. He was at least grateful that Raccoon wasn't a large city. It felt more like a town blooming into a metropolis, which meant that fortunately for him, all the important landmarks in the city weren't vastly separated from each other. After landing the helicopter in a schoolyard, he immediately took off running in the direction of the RPD vehicles used as lines of defenses. In between gasps and chokes of an impending death, a policeman he had tried to save gratefully gave him directions to the RPD along with all the spare magazines he had left, telling Billy he needed to go to the precinct to help any survivors. It had nearly taken an hour to get to where he was now, but at least he was almost there.

Before him, three death-walkers sidled towards him, the dead and dry skin on their legs slowly sloughing off as they trudged. One of them began to tremble, a bulge stirring in its throat, and then it vomited. The trajectory of the discharge of green and yellow mucous landed two feet away from Billy's feet, the rancid smell of the mess causing him to swallow his nausea. He pointed the gun towards its head, cleanly and easily disposing the poor soul with hardly any effort; the same went for the second one. Just as he was about to take down the final one, it fell after a round plugged into its head, one that was not fired from his gun. As the zombie fell, Billy saw that there was someone standing behind it. It was a man who didn't appear much older than him, and was certainly heavily dressed for combat. Affiliated with the military perhaps?

"You're no ordinary civilian, are you?" The man asked, stepping under the light of the lamppost.

"No. I can say the same for you. Military?" Billy lowered his gun to his side but kept his finger close to the trigger.

The man shook his head. "Carlos. Hired by Umbrella-"

That was enough for Billy to raise his weapon again, the muzzle pointed at the young man's head. "Carlos, huh?" Umbrella sure knew had to step up their game. Even in the midst of a Necropolis, they didn't know when to stop until they got what they wanted, and undoubtedly, he was quite high on Regan's priority list.

Carlos jumped back and steadily raised his arms to show that he meant no trouble. "Whoa! What are you doing? I just helped you out back there!"

"Did I ask for it?" Billy said coolly.

"Look, I don't know what's going on here more than you do. We were sent here, ordered by Umbrella to rescue any civilians and then all this shit happened. I'm just a hired mercenary, nothing more." Carlos kept his voice calm and steady as if to show he was on his side.

Billy still held his gun firmly as he walked forward, his eyes scanning left and right to make sure that there were no secret traps set. He had already walked into one and he wasn't planning on making the same mistake again.

"You have to believe me. I'm just a mercenary sent out here to help. I had no idea I was going to be thrown into this hellhole. I-I just lost almost my entire team and there's hardly anyone here who needs to be rescued anymore." Carlos lowered his arms to his side, his eyes casting off a relenting look, like he didn't give a shit about anything anymore. Exhaustion, frustration, and confusion weighed him down, reminding Billy of himself in a way.

Billy dropped the gun slightly, feeling a bit sympathetic. He could relate to losing his entire squad after thrown into a mess that made no sense. When he was in Africa, he'd also thought he was sent in to help, but instead, he was nearly turned into the bad guy had it not been for the revelation about Umbrella that had cost him his entire future.

"So what's your story? What are you doing here?" Carlos asked.

Looking for someone…"

"Family? Friend?"

Billy paused for a moment, the question striking a nerve. "Not sure."

"Listen," Carlos said gently. "I want to help. I haven't seen many survivors, but there was one I saw earlier. She was a young, female teenager. Short, brown hair, wide eyes, young face, not too tall, armed. She was headed for the police station before I could stop her. I was going to go after her but my squad leader stopped me. I'm off on my own at the moment, but I'm not sure when-"

The radio in Carlos's pocket crackled to life, a deep, aged voice sounding urgent through the heavy static. Billy barely made out what the man over the radio was saying, but understood enough that he knew Carlos had to regroup again. As he listened to the conversation, his mind wandered back to what Carlos had just said. The descriptions he provided could have fit any female teenager in the city, but he doubted there would be one who was headed to the police station _and armed_, or even alive at this point. He didn't want to get his hopes up but he was starting to feel a lot more optimistic. "Your leader needs you. You should go."

"What about the lady in-"

Billy nodded. "I'll take care of her."

Carlos said nothing and nodded in return. "Good luck. Remember, we're on the same side." He said nothing more, turned, and ran off in his own direction.

Billy smirked, didn't give much thought to the encounter other than considering that this Carlos was probably telling the truth about his situation. Still, it didn't hurt to remain on guard. He seemed like he had wanted to enlist his help, but Billy knew he already had too much on his plate. The Ex-Marine waited a few more seconds until the mercenary disappeared from his sight and made sure there was no funny business happening around him before approaching the station like he had planned. _Must be close by,_ he thought, and it was.

Not too far up ahead, he could make out the faint outline of the building, shadows of nearby toppled structures playing against it. With a quick sweep of his gun around the next block, he made sure that there weren't any threats before he dashed for the RPD with renewed vigor that made him feel nearly invincible. He was far too anxious and excited at the same time to even feel the heavy weight of the weapons anchored against his back as he burst through the gates.

Billy had never believed in fate and had never been at the right place at the right time until now.

After risking his life too many times for his own liking to make it to where he was now in order to find the one person who held all the answers to his burning questions, he was standing right before her. He almost wanted to laugh at the too-good-to-be-true situation. It felt surreal, like he was standing in a dream and as soon as he got to her, he'd wake up to find that she was nothing but an illusion. He stood there, locked in a trance as he stared at her unnaturally still body in disbelief—

-and that was when it hit him. _She's unnaturally still._

He didn't even feel himself running, his knees already on the ground next to her as he carefully scooped her into his arms, gently brushing away dirty bangs away from her eyes. There was a mixture of peace and distress on her face, long lashes fanning from her closed lids. She looked so helpless and delicate that at that instant, Billy felt all his anger toward her dissolve. Being in her presence, seeing her, _holding_ her delivered memories of their friendship and emotions he didn't know how to express. He gingerly embraced her cold body against his chest for a beat longer, perfectly aware that he was treating her like she was a fragile doll as he felt for a pulse.

"Thank God…" he muttered against her face, his forehead above hers in relief when he found a lively pulse; she was just unconscious at the moment. He was so close to her face and could feel her warm breath against his lips...and that was when he spotted something shiny from the corner of his eyes. It was hanging around her neck, small silver plates below the keyhole of her leather halter. They were formally his, his dog tags. Billy swallowed a lump in his throat, didn't know what to think of it, but seeing his chain around her neck made his heart beat easier for the first time in almost five days. Was this the answer he had been seeking for?

_STAAAAAARRRRS!_

The inhuman scream, which sounded more like a demand, sent a chill down Billy's back, calling him out of his reverie. When he turned around, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary—he was already accustomed to the carcasses and bloodbath, nothing new. Just as he was wondering what the hell was calling for what sounded like stars, something in his mind clicked, and the connections to the files Brad had shown him formed. He remembered scanning the files and seeing strange test subjects being transported to Raccoon that didn't make sense then, but was starting to now. Before he could even ask himself, he already suspected that the scream belonged to one of Umbrella's prized and freak experiments, and it was hunting for stars…

"S.T.A.R.S…" He looked down at Rebecca and quickly strapped her fallen machine gun on his back before picking her up in his arms. Billy didn't want to be around when that thing showed up. He needed to get out of here fast, before the hunter found him, and in particular, Rebecca.

* * *

Brad was so sick and tired of running, but there was nothing else he could do. No matter how many times he plugged his predator with rounds, nothing seemed to even slightly impede its advances. After he lured it out of the RPD from Rebecca, he had managed to lose it after slipping into a bar, where he miraculously ended up running into Jill. She had come in at just the right time to help him fend off a small crowd of zombies. He would have to remember next time that reloading in the midst of an attack was a very, _very _bad idea.

Although he was glad and relieved to see Jill, he hadn't voiced it to her, nor did he mention that Rebecca was still at the RPD. He had even forgotten about their plan to rendezvous at the police station, all rationality went out the window. The only thing fresh in his mind was that horrible creature chasing him. It seemed to be programmed to hunt down S.T.A.R.S. and something told Brad that it would not rest until they were all dead. When he suddenly heard the ear-splitting roar again from it, he knew he had to start moving again.

The only thing he had told Jill was that it was after them and there was no way to stop it. And then he was gone, out the bar and into the dead streets, leaving her alone, confused, and unguarded on her own.

Brad sucked in a deep breath, completely livid that out of his own fear, he had only remembered to look after his own ass and not his partner's. He checked his watch. It hadn't been more than fifteen minutes since he had broke out of the bar after meeting Jill briefly. He thought about going back but realized that she was probably gone by now, heading to the police station, where they were supposed to all meet. With his bloody forearm, he wiped away the cold sweat plastering his skin and cautiously moved into the intersection of the streets at the end of the block he was on. He had no idea where that _thing_ was right now and worse, he had no idea where he was going. He was back in front of the precinct.

"Great, I went around in a circle…"

_Rebecca!_

He swallowed, hoping that she was still alive behind the gates. Now would be a good time to get her, find Jill, and then move out as a team. He waited for a few seconds, hearing only low moans and the sound of water gushing out of a broken fire hydrant, and decided that everything was safe for now. He hurried across the street, clutching his wounded arm with his free hand and staggered toward the gate, shoving it open with his shoulder. The familiar screech sounded and his face lit up when he saw Jill by the steps, but Rebecca was not there anymore. He didn't know if he should be relieved or fearful of this, but since he saw no blood or detached body parts where she had been, he assumed she regained conscious and went off on her own, probably inside the RPD. This was perfect. He'd tell Jill about everything and then they could find Rebecca and find a way out of the city.

* * *

Jill heard the gates open and turned around, finding Brad lurching towards her, dried blood splattered all over his yellow vest.

"Brad!" she shouted, running to him to aid him, only to get cut off by a blur of black that descended from nowhere, its landing causing the ground to slightly tremble.

Brad's eyes widen, a surge of adrenaline sending him on full alert, but before he could react, the same S.T.A.R.S. monster turned to him and grabbed him with its tentacles.

He howled, tears trickling from his eyes though he couldn't feel them with the monster's massive, scalded hand crushing his face. He couldn't see anything, but he heard Jill scream his name, and from the urgency in her tone, he knew that there was no escape for him. His life seemed to flash before him all at once, each event a blur to him, only a few important and recent memories prominent: his days at S.T.A.R.S., his friends, the mansion, meeting Billy, seeing Rebecca, Jill's horrified expression.

And then he felt something hard and poisonous pierce his face and throat, slithering, before it slipped out of him, draining his life with it. He was fully conscious for a few seconds before he felt his entire body shut down, barely any pain, quick and sudden like a power outage after a short-circuit. The last thought that fell with his tears was that he hoped his short-lived life was at least slightly worthy in some aspect.

* * *

A/N: Whew, long chapter with a lot going on at the same time! Thank you for sitting through all of that! I'm sure it was a lot to take in. I hope it's clear that the adventure of Billy and Rebecca would be 'Rebecca's journey' through RE3 Nemesis, if that made any sense? Basically, everything in RE3 Nemesis stays the same for Jill, but I will be writing Rebecca and Billy's journey through Raccoon as they find a way out, and of course, stalked by Nemesis since Rebecca is a S.T.A.R.S. member. So, finally after 13 chapters, Billy and Rebecca reunite! I must thank you all for your patience! I know I got a lot of messages asking me when they're finally going to meet up.

I originally was not going to include Carlos, but after discussing this chapter with a friend, he convinced me to add Carlos in. I did to give him a brief appearance, also linking Billy to Rebecca. Whether he will pop up again or not, I'm not sure. Regarding if I'm going to write from Jill's pov as well, probably not because we already know what happens to her in RE3 so I want to solely focus on Rebecca, Billy, and Regan. There will be mentioning and hints of Jill but she probably won't be making any appearances, which makes sense because she never bumps into Rebecca in RE3. I want it to be as canon as possible. This is seriously like my vision for RE6, lol.

I honestly wished Capcom gave us more information about Samuel Regan instead of just sticking his name on a file. It would have been so much easier to write his character instead of starting from scratch. For some reason, he's really starting to sound like Sergei from Umbrella Chronicles!

Lastly, thank you all so much as usual for reading! It makes my writing experience all the more fun and exciting! Please review. =)


	15. Chapter 15

Intertwined

**Monday, September 28th, evening**

Billy lithely moved into a dark but safe street. He had been extra careful to find the route with the least amount of the undead, knowing that with Rebecca in his arms, he wouldn't have the ability to fire his weapon. Thankfully, he hadn't run into much trouble or that strange creature who bellowed out for S.T.A.R.S., but that didn't mean he could relax. That thing, whatever it was, was loose in the city and chances were that it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered by it. Down the road, he came to a dead end strewn with police cars. The doors hung loosely off the hinges; tiny pieces of glass from the windows sprawled everywhere. Billy swept a pile away with his foot before he carefully leaned Rebecca against the side of the car. He conducted a quick search at the backseat for any spare magazines, and to his relief, he found some ammo for his handgun and shotgun.

Stuffing them into his pockets, he let out a relieved sigh, feeling a bit more secured than before. It wasn't going to be an easy feat to make it out of the city. He was suddenly surprised that his mentality had changed. When he had landed, he hadn't expected to leave the city, knew the chances of escaping were slim to none. All he wanted were some answers, but actually seeing Rebecca again made him think otherwise. Yes, he still wanted to know what the hell had been going on, but being in her presence and just seeing how fragile she looked made something stir within him: the need to ensure her survival, a similar feeling he had in Arklay.

_How about you assume that everything is all peachy after hearing her out, eh? _His mind scolded him, refusing to let him give in so easily to what he truly wanted to believe.

Billy slid to the ground and sat across from the medic, and couldn't help but notice how damn _alluring_ she looked. It had come to his attention before when he first discovered her body outside the RPD, but he had been too worried then whether or not she was alive. Now that he knew she was okay and just needed to come to, he felt a bit more calm, and apparently calm enough that he couldn't deny he was checking her out. It was just a quick and innocent glance from head to toe followed by the realization that she was a lot curvier than he had thought; her issued S.T.A.R.S. uniform had truly hid too much from sight, including a rather cute butterfly tattoo on her left arm. At any other given place and time, he knew he his eyes would be lingering on the skin-tight leather halter and pants till she stopped him, probably with a slap, but now just didn't feel right, especially when they were in a middle of a biohazard outbreak and Rebecca being unconscious. Even though she wouldn't know of any of this, out of respect, Billy forced his eyes to focus on something else—on his dog tags.

He remembered she had grabbed them from him the day they departed after the obliteration of the Arklay Facility, but it never occurred to him that she would continue to wear them around her neck. The sentiment touched him and made him even slightly emotional, more than what he was comfortable feeling. Just as he was about to reach forward to touch the small metal plates between his fingers, he saw her body shifting, her craned head straightening.

Billy held his breath, a deep rush of anxiety filling him as he watched and waited for her to fully wake up.

* * *

Nothing could have prepared Rebecca for what she would open her eyes to. She had to be dreaming, her head was pounding and she was seeing what couldn't exist, except in her dreams. Her fuzzy vision swayed and so did the image of him, someone whom she had wanted to reach out to for far too long, but she knew if she did so now, he would just fade. He continued to move across her line of vision, concern swimming in his dark, steely eyes as his wounded arms and bruised wrists reached out to steady her—

-and then her heart jumped. He had touched her and she had felt it. If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up, not without telling him everything she wanted to say, about how everything that had happened was cruel and unfair, and how more than anything, she wished that he was still alive.

"Rebecca?"

She heard his tender call and raised her own hands up to touch his shoulders, expecting to catch nothing but air, but instead felt his hard muscles beneath warm and sticky skin. As she blinked her eyes a few times to adjust her vision, his worn but handsome face became clear, just inches away from her own.

"Rebecca…" he repeated again, this time with worry laced in his tone.

She didn't answer, too stunned by his appearance and too confused at what had occurred. Why was she here, but more importantly, why was he here? The last thing she remembered was being knocked away by Nemesis before it went after Brad. She must have lost consciousness after that. How long had it been? Looking around, she knew she was still in Raccoon and could still hear the haunting whines of the flesh-eaters. Nothing had changed, except she was no longer alone. This definitely was no dream, and that could only mean that Billy wasn't one either. "B-Billy…?" she choked, fearful to utter what she wanted to ask next. "Y-you're alive…?"

Her soft tone was desperate and questioning, like she couldn't believe what her eyes presented her, couldn't believe what she was touching was no memory. She crawled toward him, scraping her painful legs across the pavement, a poor attempt to close the tiny gap between them.

He opened his mouth, as if searching for words when a bulky, black shadow rained from above, obscuring the light from the city lampposts for just a brief second before it landed with a _whoosh_. Before it even turned around, Rebecca knew what it was. It was the same pursuer that had attacked her before, and now it was back to finish its job.

Billy immediately jumped to his feet and was only fazed for a second at how hideous and deadly the latest Umbrella bio-weapon appeared before his shotgun was raised, aimed at the monster's face.

"Run!" he cried to Rebecca, as he fired, buying some time for her to escape.

Rebecca scrambled to the side as she watched Billy back into the dead end of the piled, trashed cars. She managed to get behind Nemesis, and reflexively speaking, she should be running in the opposite direction, far from the creature, but then she briefly remembered that cruel night in the mansion—it was her time to make some sacrifices. A jolt of adrenaline charged through her and she was moving toward the monster, couldn't feel the previous ache in her legs anymore.

A clean shot exploded from the M3 and hit the assailant's eye but it didn't flinch at all. "What the hell…" Billy breathed, but remained calm.

Rebecca stopped in her track when she saw Nemesis's back twitch, a tentacle sprouting from a widening hole in its bloody skin. It was the same tentacle that had sent her sprawling in the air, knocking her a good fifteen feet back, and she wasn't about to let the same thing happen to her partner. She reached into her holster, expecting to find her machine gun…and found that she didn't have it on her. _Shit! It's strapped on Billy's back. _Panic filled her when she realized her only options now were her weaker handguns, but they were not going to prove effective against Nemesis. She knew it had the ability to resist weaker firepower from the way it deflected Brad's shots.

Billy chanced a glance at Rebecca and found her standing a few feet away from him looking stunned and indecisive. He raised his voice, practically screaming, making sure that she understood the urgency of his request. "What are you waiting for? Get out of here!"

She just couldn't find the strength to obey Billy's behest, knowing that she had to at least find a way to distract that tentacle if Billy was handling Nemesis. Just as she was about to retrieve her handgun, no matter how weak it was, she saw that Billy wasn't going to have enough time to defend himself as he squeezed the trigger of his shotgun again, his hands steadying the slight recoil. "BILLY! Look out!" she screamed and dived forward, knocking into him, pushing him down just as the fleshy rope that was aimed at his face slapped against her right leg, curling around it, reeling her toward one of the owner's raised foot.

_That thing is going to stomp on me, _she thought fearfully as she brought her arms up towards her face in preparation for her death.

* * *

Billy had reached out to grab her hand, only to miss it as she slipped from his reach. "Rebecca!" He gritted his teeth, didn't know who to be more furious with, himself or the bio-weapon. Immediately recovering, he sprung up easily, abandoning the shotgun for now. He didn't want to risk injuring Rebecca with the splash shot, not when she was at the mercy of that bastard. Remembering that he still had her machine gun holstered, he withdrew the weapon, took careful aim at the tentacle and fired. A torrent of shiny specs erupted, and Billy could only hope that they were enough to pierce through the tentacle's tissue. His silent prayer was answered, the long limb released its prisoner and retreated back shakily, giving Rebecca just enough time to roll out of the way as the foot of the bio-weapon came crashing down, missing her skull by an inch.

Billy didn't even get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief. "Rebecca!" he yelled, and slid her machine gun across the pavement, the weapon skidding to a halt by her arm. He trusted she knew what to do as he picked up his M3 and ran up to the monster, aiming for its face again. He fired two consecutive shots and ducked as one of its expansive arms swung at him before countering by shoving his side into its synthetic skin.

Though she was too weak to stand, she thankfully was still able to use her arms. As soon as she saw Billy propel Nemesis back, she sat up half way and slammed a fresh magazine into her H&K MP5, never releasing the trigger. The S.T.A.R.S. member concentrated most of her focus on being careful to not hit Billy as the bullets wildly ejected, her weak hands quivering from the impact. Sweat washed down Billy's back when he saw Rebecca biting down her lips, as if she was in deep pain. Exhaustion seemed to wrack her body as she continued firing—

-and finally, a defeated growl escaped from the Nemesis. Rebecca's arms fell on their own accord, the machine gun sliding from her fingers. Drained, she collapsed on to the ground, her chest heaving heavily as she greedily gulped a lungful of air.

Billy didn't even spare a moment to recuperate as soon as the monster stiffly fell. He waited tensely for a few seconds just to make sure it didn't rise and turned around, finding Rebecca curled up on her side.

"Rebecca," he said softly, running to her and dropping on his knees as he carefully supported her neck against the hook of his arm and easily lifted her into his arms after he gathered their weapons. It wasn't safe to remain on the streets. Luckily, to his right, he spotted a back entrance to a deserted bookstore.

Thankfully, she didn't object to him carrying her; he knew she couldn't make it on her own anyway. She tightened her hold around his neck when he kicked the broken door open, the force catching her by surprise. Billy tentatively stepped into the store and set the medic against a seating ledge by the window as he quickly swept the room to make sure there were no threats. Thankfully, none detected.

"I'm okay," she panted, one bloody hand gripping against her leg. The blood had already seeped through the fabric of her pants, staining her palm.

He pulled a seat from an overturned coffee table and moved it next to her, sitting down, ignoring her poor attempt at trying to reassure him. "Give me your med kit," he commanded, didn't even consider that she might not even have one on her.

She un-strapped one from a pocket in her holster, but before he could take it, she grabbed his hand and pierced her perplexed eyes into his, looking like she was still caught somewhere between reality and dream. "Billy…" she began, and he could see the question in her gaze.

"I'm not dead," he stated bluntly, didn't know how else to phrase it. Everything was starting to unravel itself to him and it was all starting to make sense. After she had protected him, taking the hit that was supposed to quite possibly kill him, it all came together. She had been willing to sacrifice her own life for him. And that was when he knew he had to kill the S.T.A.R.S. pursuer, for her sake; she didn't deserve to die now more than she did before. She was the same person, the same Rebecca, but he had been too blind and fooled to see that clearly, letting the initial raw shock and devastation cloud his better judgment. He looked away from her face and dipped his head shamefully. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice hollow.

"For what?" Rebecca lifted both his hands from the darkness of the store, and as it emerged beneath the faint glow of the broken lampposts streaming against the windowpane, she saw he had matching bulging, bloody and bruised wrists. "Billy…what happened?" she gasped. "No ordinary accident can cause the bruises to swell like this."

He pulled his hands away from hers and retrieved the forgotten med kit, opening it to find some gauze and a can of First Aid Spray. There were some other complicated tools, including a mixing kit, but he figured that since they didn't have any of those damned herbs that seemed to sprout out of nowhere, the spray was good enough, at least that's what he remembered from experience. "Roll up to where the injury is at."

Rebecca obeyed, and he could felt her studying him carefully as he examined the wound line that ran up her calf. She didn't seem to care for her wound; perhaps her medical knowledge told her that it wasn't anything too severe as long as it was treated before an infection occurred. Still, he was concerned. The tentacle had slice had grazed the skin, the shaper parts of its length slicing the surface, and all because she was trying to save him. He wiped away the blood with the gauze, surprised that his powerful hands were amazingly gentle as he tended her wound.

"I can take it from here, thanks…"

Having more medical experience than he did, Billy understood that she wasn't trying to reject his kindness in any way. He nodded and released his hold on her leg, wiping off the blood on his hands against the sides of his jeans. He watched her idly as she handled herself, mesmerized not by her expert hands, but just by being in her existence. Though it hadn't been more than three months since he had last seen her, she radiated a vibe of true maturity, like she had done so much growing up in the last few tortuous weeks than she ever could in her entire life. The death of her teammates and friends, her city, and in one way or another, him, hads surely attributed.

He gripped his right wrist with his left hand and squeezed it hard. Applying pressure always seemed to null the pain, but not the memories that came with it. "I took off after we departed and stayed in a small shack on the outskirts of Raccoon City, deciding what to do, what course of action I should take, where to go."

Rebecca's movements slowed. She said nothing but he knew she was listening.

"I was keeping up with the events going on in the city. From the papers, I read about the dead S.T.A.R.S. members, about how the rest of you guys were framed in order for Umbrella to cover its experiments. I knew I was supposed to leave but I just couldn't…I wanted to help you and the rest of S.T.A.R.S. in one way or another, and ultimately, try to take down Umbrella. So I waited…for an opportunity."

He breathed deeply before continuing. "And then I met one of your team mates, Brad. He was going to skip town and we met by chance when he came to my shack to ask for directions. I noticed right away that he was with S.T.A.R.S. from his uniform. He filled me in on everything and showed me some files he snatched from Irons's desk and that was how we learned that Umbrella was trying to send suspicious shipments into the city. We managed to intercept one, the one carrying all the T-viruses, and I told him to go back to the city to inform you, Jill, Chris, and Barry."

"W-what!" she breathed, facing him, completely forgetting about her leg. "All this time, Brad knew your whereabouts and never mentioned anything…?"

"Because I told him not to. I assumed you knew that I was alive and well and I didn't want him spreading the news to the other S.T.A.R.S. members, or worse, people at the RPD. If word got out that I was still alive and you had helped me escape, it would have jeopardized your safety, career, future."

"But all that had already been jeopardized…"

"I know," Billy said slowly, feeling disgusted with himself at what he was going to confess next. "A few days later, just as I was about to leave because I knew Umbrella would be conducting investigations regarding the whereabouts of the missing package that never made it to Raccoon, I was captured by my old base commander, Samuel Regan. He was also the man who had me sentenced to death. We had a history—he works for Umbrella but disguised himself as the Commander of the Dunell Marine Base to gain more influence."

"He told me the reason he had found me was because you sold me out to Irons for a new beginning. I was completely stunned and foolishly livid at the revelation that I hadn't thought otherwise at first. As I was being driven to my execution site for the second time, I had a lot of time to reflect, and realized that before I die, I needed to know the truth from you. I managed to escape, got on Umbrella's helicopter and set a course for Raccoon. I had no idea where to even start to look for you, only logically assumed you'd probably be at the precinct. I guess you know the rest…"

The bookstore was silent. He could imagine the gears in Rebecca's mind turning as she attempted to fit the puzzle together. And now, she had all the remaining pieces from him.

The game Umbrella was playing, it was too sick, moving them around like chess pieces until a checkmate was reached, with each other.

And then the silence was broken with her chuckles and light sniffles. "Billy, you've been close to me all this time. All the answers I needed were right under my nose." The tears continued to flow from her eyes, and she didn't bother to contain them.

He was glad she wasn't feeling one bit ashamed to show him how she felt. There were no hidden feelings, words, pretenses—just genuine emotions. The schism Umbrella had driven between them had not only inadvertently brought them together, but closer as well.

"It's been a set up all this time," Rebecca said through pursed lips. He wiped away the wetness around her eyes, and listened to her tortured confession. "Not long after I handed my report in, Irons told me that you were caught and killed. You have no idea how devastated I was…" She clutched her heart, as if the memories were making the experience just slightly less painful than the reality of it, even when he was sitting right beside her. "Somewhere in my heart, I believed, or perhaps I _wanted_ to believe so badly that you were alive out there, that Irons was lying…just like how I wanted to believe that the incident in Arklay was nothing but a nightmare, one I'd wake up to and find my friends all alive and well. But, that wasn't how it was, and to keep my sanity, I knew I had to stop dreaming about all the possibilities and focus on the only thing that brought me comfort—getting revenge on Umbrella."

"And you couldn't further press Irons without looking suspicious and letting the truth slip."

"Not only that. I had told Jill Valentine about you. Did Brad mention her?"

"Yeah, he practically talked about the entire team."

She nodded and closed her eyes, clutching his dog tags. "She saw right through me that I was hiding something the first week after the mansion ordeal. I had to protect her, I couldn't let Irons know that she had somehow gotten involved in the cover-up. I couldn't put her under the spotlight. She was planning on going to Europe with the rest of the team to try to shut down Umbrella's main headquarter."

"You were going to go with them, weren't you?"

Rebecca nodded again. "Till Brad showed up…and then we knew we had to investigate the rumored labs in the city. Not to mention, there were multiple strange sightings in the city, similar to the creatures we encountered in Arklay..."

Billy couldn't help but wonder if she would have been safer in Europe right now. Sure she'd probably be infiltrating Umbrella's deepest facilities, but it couldn't be more frightening than being stranded in Raccoon against an army of undead, could it? He didn't know if he could forgive himself if he had unknowingly stepped in the way of what was better for her, but there was no way at the time he could have predicted any of this.

He saw her shudder involuntarily, look away from him, and he didn't blame her for not wanting to be reminded of what ensued after those encounters, the first telltale signs of an impending doomsday. He hadn't been in the city with her at the time so he couldn't imagine how she felt. No doubt she had probably felt helpless and trapped, and that he could relate to, but in terms of watching the actual transformation of the city, he just couldn't.

She refocused on her leg that had momentarily been forgotten, almost done tending it, just wrapping gauze over it and cleaning the excess mess before smoothing out the rolled leather. He helped her neatly pack up her supplies, capping the bottles, when she stopped him with gentle fingertips. "Not done yet," she said softly. She took one of his arms and dabbed his swollen wrist with a cotton ball soaked with a substance Billy wasn't familiar with. Whatever it was, it stung like a bitch and smelled strange, but he tried not to focus on the physical pain. Instead, he concentrated on how delicately she was treating his wrist. It was a strange feeling actually, to be handled with such meticulous and affectionate care. He was a fighter, used to the roughness of combat and the injuries that came with it. Even in the Marines, the field medics were hasty and sometimes even careless with patching wounds due to the multiple rounds they had to make. He hadn't relish in the warmth of someone's genuine concern since he was a child, and to experience it again now was inviting to say the least.

He noticed for the first time that her hands were smaller than he had expected, like a child's, suiting her playful and youthful demeanor well. They were rather cute, and so was she when she couldn't solve the piano puzzle in Arklay. As a former pianist, he knew it sucked to have short fingers and small hands when it came to the more difficult pieces. He remembered the way she had slammed her hands on the keys in a sudden rage, her mini temper placated when he completed what she couldn't. He was so caught up in that memory that he barely realized that she had repeated the same procedure on his other wrist, both of them expertly bandaged now.

Rebecca smiled faintly and folded one of his hands on top of the other. "I-I hope that helped," she said, her voice cracking with her words. Her eyes became wet again. "I still can't believe you sacrificed your second chance of escape to come back to Raccoon to settle business, even when you thought I could have been the enemy."

He was glad he did, because what came out of the arduous trial was a newfound and reinforced trust between each other, a deeper building of their relationship increased tenfold from what they'd established in Arklay.

"I believe this belongs to you," she whispered, curling her fingers around the chain around her neck, preparing to lift it when he stopped her, gently pulling her hands away from it.

"Forget it, it looks better on you." He grinned and ran an index finger over her left bicep. "And along with this tattoo on your arm, it gives you a more bad-ass image, little girl."

Rebecca managed a laugh, her face flushing with his compliment. "There's a story that goes with this tattoo, but perhaps another place and time." She inhaled a deep breath and shut her eyes, draining out the last of her tears. "You have no idea how glad I am that you're alive…"

Billy placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she cried softly. Her warm tears, what he presumed and hoped to be of relief, dripped on his arm, but he didn't say anything. He had never been good with comforting people in their moment of need, especially when it came to words. It was the result of leading a solitary existence for a good portion of his life, but during his experiences in the Marines and in particular, that night he had met Rebecca on the train, he had come to accept that relying on others and being relied on (though he much preferred the latter to the former) weren't so bad.

The chair creaked beneath his weight as he stood up and instinctively embraced her, one hand on her back, the other behind her head as he drew her wet face against his chest. Though everything around him was falling apart, for the brief moments he held her, he couldn't have felt more at peace, more whole.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter will feature a RE2 character. I've also decided to also take some elements from Resident Evil Outbreak and work them into the story later on.

As usual, thanks so much for reading and commenting. I've replied back to all the signed-in readers, so to the anonymous ones, I want to personally thank you guys here since I couldn't get back to you individually (unless you leave an e-mail!). Since winter break has started for me, I hope to spend more time writing, and to those who are still taking finals, good luck!


	16. Chapter 16

A Farewell

**Monday, September 28th, night**

Rebecca never thought the sight of something motionless could disturb her so much. Down the block where she and Billy had fought Nemesis, the pursuer was now lying in a heap of dented metal, fortunately with its hideous face obscured by its protruding, hunched back. She forced the image of her near-death out of her mind, reminding herself that the worse was probably over now. Maybe the damage Brad had inflicted on it weakened it, and all it took were her and Billy's combined efforts to truly finish it off.

_Speaking of Brad…_

"Ready?"

She heard Billy stepping out of the ruined bookstore and felt his hand on her shoulder before he turned her body and gaze away from the fallen bio-weapon. "It's dead now," he reassured, his voice taking on a protective edge.

"Nemesis better stay dead," she tried to whisper firmly, but it didn't come out as threatening as she would have liked, not even close.

"Nemesis? Is that its name?"

Rebecca shook her head, feeling silly about what she was going to tell him next. "Just a befitting nickname I came up with. I have NO idea what it's called and I really don't want to find out."

"Nickname, huh? How thoughtful…but it sounds so familiar." Billy looked as if he were searching for something in his memory."Wait a minute, I saw that name in the files Brad showed me. Something about the NEMESIS project."

Rebecca raised a brow, resisting the urge to look back the monster. What were the chances that the only nickname she came up for it matched the name of the actual project, but when she really thought about it, it wasn't that much of a coincidence. She couldn't have come up with a more suitable title for the killer, and neither could Umbrella. "I don't know about you, but I bet you that's the same Nemesis found in the report."

"My thoughts exactly, but we don't have to worry about it now."

That comment made Rebecca feel better because God knew that was one less headache to worry about for she had plenty on her plate to deal with. She wished she didn't have to deal with any of it though, already missing how comfortable and secured she felt in Billy's arms just a few moments ago, all her concerns flushed away with her tears. She wasn't sure how long he had held her. In reality, it was probably no more than a few moments, but it had felt much longer to her, in fact, so long that she thought he was surely going to interrupt her clingy moment, but he didn't. Completely patient, he offered his understanding until she was ready to let go on her own. She never would have expected that the simple gesture of a hug could be the solution to mend so much. She had pulled away slowly and reluctantly, tried to tell him again how grateful she was, but he silenced her with his finger and told her he knew. She was actually glad that he had stopped her from rambling on, like he somehow knew she had a tendency to do that. After they broke away, they packed their belongings in silence, both of them absorbing the contentment their reunion had brought them. Rebecca limped out of the store first while Billy holstered their weapons for the time being to lighten her load.

The night had become darker and the air chillier than when she had left her house. She surmised that a few hours must have passed and wondered how much had happened during the elapsed time. "Billy, can we head back to the station? I was supposed to meet Brad and Jill there. We all got separated and they're probably gone by now, but-"

Billy cut her off. "Yeah, I understand, let's go find your friends. Did you guys come up with an escape plan?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Negative. We all got separated."

Forlornness rang in her voice, but luckily, he had some good news to share with her.

"I wouldn't say we're stranded yet. Remember, I got into the city by Umbrella's private chopper. It's not too far from here. I landed it in a school yard…on Fox Street, I believe."

Rebecca's head jerked up, her eyes growing wide. Too thrilled that one by one, things were looking up, she grabbed his hands excitedly. "Hey, that's not too far from here, even within walking distance."

He smiled and clasped his own hand over hers. "How do you think I got to you? Come on, let's get out of here and find Brad and Jill."

She nodded and let go of the doorframe she was holding on to for support, wiggled her injured leg to test whether or not she could tolerate the pain. It wasn't too bad until she started walking—and nearly fell over had she not caught herself. Right away, she knew that it was too early to be walking. Too much pressure at this moment would only strain the wound even more, prolonging the time for recovery.

Billy looked at her with worried eyes and reached out to hold her, but she gave him a thumbs-up and pursed her lips, refusing to release a moan of pain even though her leg was achingly throbbing, like she had just been pricked with a torrent of needles. Instead, she groaned, feeling defeated right before anything had even begun.

"How about we extend our truce a little longer?" he asked with a slight chuckle before he hunched over on one knee, his back inviting her to jump on.

"Huh? You can't be serious!" She started to back away, the insanity of his suggestion only exceeded by her worry of burdening him. There had to be a more _practical _way around this.

"You need a lift and you know it," Billy argued.

"But how are you going to shoot while carrying me on your back," Rebecca countered, still refusing to give into the crazy idea of leeching on to his back. He was already carrying most of their arsenal, and she didn't feel right if he had to add on the additional weight of a human. Not to mention, she was getting embarrassed just picturing the image in her head.

He snickered. "I hope you're feeling trigger-happy because that's _your _job. Now, come on. We can stand here and bicker about it all day, or go find your friends."

The image continued to run in her mind—she on his back, swerving him like a vehicle and clinging on to him for dear life with one hand and shooting down the dangerous pinheads with the other. It was a sight indeed, one that actually made her grin. If not for the gravity of the situation, she could laugh for awhile at how absurdly the scene would play out. She thought for a few seconds longer and finally relented with a sigh, carefully straddling his back as he stood up and tucked his arms beneath her thighs and started walking.

He turned around to look at her, but the shotgun was mostly in the way. "You okay up there?"

"Besides having the guns pressed into me, I'm great," she said, letting Billy hear the amusement in her voice. "What about you? You okay with all this weight?" She still felt the need to ask out of concern even though his movements were fluid, his lock on her, solid.

"This is hardly anything. Though I'll admit, you are heavier than you look."

"H-hey, what are you trying to say?" she asked, unsure of what point he was trying to prove. It was already a known fact that she was petite and this was actually the first time that anyone had suggested contrary to that. Then again, this was also the first time someone was giving her a piggyback ride.

Billy heard her handgun slip out of her holster and grinned. "I don't want to get a woman with a gun mad so I'll just say that the extra weight must come from your curves."

Rebecca blushed, feeling vaguely regretful that she did not select a more appropriate outfit than the one she donned now. She couldn't believe it. Was Billy actually attempting to flirt with her at a time like this? She didn't want to think it was the case, but the way her heart skipped a beat and her cheeks were slapped with a heat wave, seemed to suggest otherwise. It wasn't too out of his character, anyway. Though he was a man with a good heart, he was also somewhat arrogant and chauvinistic. That was at least the first impression she had gotten from him during their first meeting on the Ecliptic Express, but she was glad that there was much more to him than what he presented on the surface.

Gun trained on the shadows ahead, she tightened her free grip on her carrier's hard shoulder and could feel the rippling of his muscles, the lines of it creating pathways that led to his well-built arm that finely accentuated the intricate tribal pattern of his tattoo. She suddenly felt her eyes wandering, and it wasn't over the darkness before her. The battered wife beater was exposing too much of his toned body for her own good when she felt herself wondering how long it had taken him to get his sculpted physique. She must have spent a good six months on her own field training, and even with the help of Edward's whey protein mix, she hadn't gain a single pound. Quite depressing.

_Snap out of it. Now is so not the time to be checking him out,_ she scolded herself and straightened up, her gun and attention returning to the dark corners.

"Ummm…let's not get distracted here," she said sternly, as much of a reminder to herself as it was to Billy.

"Aye aye, captain," he acknowledged playfully and marched on at a steady pace.

Rebecca inhaled deeply. Right now, she really wished she had Chris Redfield's marksmanship skills.

Billy must have heard her. "Rebecca? Again, I-I'm sorry you had to-"

She knew where this was going. "Forget it. I know, you'd do the same for me, too."

She hugged him tighter and could have sworn he muttered something along the lines of, "Next time, I'll take your fall."

* * *

From afar, against the backdrop of burning apartment buildings, Regan watched the young pair stupidly amble off. He couldn't hear the conversation between them, but from the silly looks on their faces, he knew it was nothing but petty banter. He grabbed the railings in front of him with one hand, the other clutching his metal briefcase, and vaulted over the fire escape instead of making his way down the ladder, opting to put his nimble reflexes to work, knowing this was just a mini warm-up for the true test to come. He landed gracefully and lightly, the way a cat would have. The tail of his trench coat billowed as he took steady steps toward his target, temporarily forgetting about Billy and the young woman with him, which he felt overly confident to believe it was no other than the infamous Rebecca Chambers.

She was much prettier than he had pictured, and for a brief moment, he was almost a little disappointed that she'd probably be gone before he could have some fun with her with his own plans. As for Coen, Regan was surprisingly calm upon learning that he had escaped, and not only that, but managed to find his way into the city to save his damsel in distress. No, he wasn't angry, just sickened by the fact that the company he worked for and had dedicated his love to was capable of producing such incompetent sentries.

_Just because S.T.A.R.S. recruit rookies, that doesn't mean Umbrella has to recruit morons, _he thought wryly.

Maybe it was better this way. He would have settled for the tape of Coen's execution, but to see futilely fight for his life only to lose it in the end was much more satisfying to see a recorded death. He would actually be there to witness him writhe in pain, not necessarily from his own death, but perhaps Rebecca's. That thought made Regan's lips curve into a wicked smile. The only thing worse than suffering your own pain was watching someone else suffer, someone you deeply cared for. It looked like he was going to be able to have his own fun after all, despite the company's orders.

"First things first…" he told himself, trying to hold back his delight until he finished what he had come here to do. His job was simple enough—set the C-4 explosives in all the hidden Umbrella facilities and resuscitate the new bio-weapon that had shipped from Europe. Though it was fully completed and had gone through a sequence of tests, this was the first time it was being sent out to fight in the field with the sole mission of taking out S.T.A.R.S., and though it was deadly, its phases of defeat showed that it was still far from perfection. Nonetheless, the brute force of the creature was astonishing; enough to make his knees grow weak at the sight of the destruction it was capable of. He had collected valuable data for Umbrella, both the flaws and wonders, and he was confident that it was ready for the next add-on.

Regan knelt beside the defunct Nemesis and opened his metal briefcase, carefully pulling out his laptop. He sent a message to headquarters, giving a brief mission update. And then he waited for the response, for the program code that would enable the built-in FIM-92 Stinger missile launcher within Nemesis to be activated. The creation was hideous and beautiful at once, and it still baffled Regan to think that the breakthrough of virology and the discovery of the NE-T virus gave birth to this wonder. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a syringe, the body of the long tube housing a viscous substance of purple. Such a tiny object, but it shook in his hand as he felt himself become weak with admiration.

The company had entrusted him with his personal replica of the NE-T virus when they discover that the bonding sequence between his DNA and the virus would produce promising effects, though what those effects were, he wasn't sure, nor was he ready to find out yet. For now, the syringe served more like a charm. It was a pity. He was curious to see the results of the fusion, but had been instructed to inject in the case of an emergency. That was enough for him to realize that the tradeoff for unimaginable power would be his own humanity.

But who said that he had to inject himself with it all? He had two guinea pigs running loose in the city right now. If Nemesis wasn't going to get the S.T.A.R.S. one, then he'd get her or Coen. He'd pit one to fight against the other; the battle of a human against a bio-weapon, a _friend_, was surely going to entertain.

No one with the knowledge of Umbrella's conspiracy would make it out of this city alive, and if he had sacrifice his life to ensure that, then so be it.

* * *

Rebecca inserted a fresh magazine into her handgun. "Ready," she called to Billy.

He nodded and began walking again. The precinct was only a block away, the journey running a lot smoother than he had imagined. Their teamwork in Arkley really paid off here, everything from understanding what needed to be done with just curt commands to gracefully handling the more taxing physical maneuvers. He couldn't imagine that being hard-pressed and scraped along the jagged edges of the shotgun and machine gun on his back wasn't the least bit painful, contrary to her little white lies.

But she didn't complain, not even once, too busy asking if he was all right every other minute. Though he had assured her he was, and he would be as long as he knew she was safe, she was never satisfied with his answer. Guilty much?

They already knew each other's skills well, knew how each other thought. Rebecca knew when to not question his tactics and commands, and he learned to cooperate with her more daring suggestions, after he though it over for no more than a few seconds, of course. It was all they could spare, one snap decision after another.

"We really do make a good team," Rebecca commented, slowly sweeping her Samurai Edge left and right.

"The perfect one," Billy agreed. He moved his arms higher to support her weight, but made sure they were still a safe distance away from her butt. Her body had risen higher to improve her accuracy, her legs nearly over his shoulders now, crotch occasionally brushing against the back of his neck. Billy would be lying if he said he didn't find the positioning to be erotic, and even though he was the one who came up with the idea, it was never his intention to derive any pleasure from it. He wasn't totally distracted, only slightly, but even that was too much. "Your leg feeling a bit better?" he asked with a tinge of expectation, not wanting to rush the healing process, but knew that the sooner she recovered, the better it would be for the both of them.

"I knew it! You're getting tired of carrying me!" she exclaimed, a small bit of excitement in her tone.

"It's not that at all. I can carry you for days if I wanted to. It's just that-" He stopped himself, catching his words in his throat before they escaped, and how embarrassing it would be if they had.

He could tell she was going to press further, but a short breath escaped her lips. He stopped, and something moved in the front, on the right. Panels of burnt wood from the sloppy manmade barricade, barring an abandoned vegetable store, began to shift. Emaciated and rotten fingers slipped through the gaps, some pulling the panels up and others pulling them down.

"Billy," she whispered, pointing her weapon in the direction of the barrier.

"What do you think, partner? Make a run for it?" That would save them a good amount of time and ammo, but he didn't want to risk an unguarded back-attack.

Rebecca never got the chance to answer. Her surprised gasp was drowned out by the sound of wood tearing, limbs rustling, and deadweights shambling. Billy couldn't tell how many followers were behind the five death walkers shuffling through the disintegrated path, too alert on just clearing the first batch. "Guess we got our answer," she announced, already firing, the shots going wild.

Billy ground his teeth and carefully stepped back, not liking that this crowd was only growing in size, not waning. There were already seven zombies, and still, more were struggling to ease out of the tiny store. Rebecca's shots were taking effect, but didn't produce the desired results they were striving for. There were a lot of misses, and he didn't blame her. Moving targets was one thing, but a mobile shooter was another.

"Billy! This isn't working!"

He heard her slam another magazine into her gun and hated feeling useless. He had the urge to reach for his M92F, but knew he would have to drop Rebecca to do so. Not wanting to risk the precious seconds they needed by setting her safely on the ground, another idea came to him, one he should have thought of much sooner.

"The shotgun!" they both cried together.

_Wow, we really do make quite the team, _Billy thought as he felt her fumbling to unlock the heavier gun from his holster. Once she pried it, Billy's backward steps hastened in response to the monsters' not-so-languid movements; he had a feeling they were well aware that fresh blood was waiting for them, only three feet away. The stream from the store finally stopped, and he counted eleven heads, eleven hungry souls that needed to be put to eternal peace.

"Stop," Rebecca ordered.

Billy obeyed and a piercing shot reverberated in his ears. For the first two seconds, all he saw was an explosion of red, sinews and rotten guts in the air before disbanding, landing on the ground with soft _thuds _and _plops. _"Three down," he declared when the sight of spraying blood did not consume his vision. He took three more steps back and stopped, another shot ringing in his ears, lightly echoing with the first one that hadn't cleared yet.

* * *

Rebecca bit her lips hard to resist screaming. She never would have imagined that the bloody mess of those freaks was actually more upsetting than them when they were 'alive.' She pumped the shotgun again, rage stinging eyes, and for the first time, she actually felt like a bloodthirsty mad woman, too eager to erase the pain and misery of the mutated creatures who had once been human, people she probably even knew, or strangers she had come across at least once in her life in Raccoon. She felt Billy retracting after another shot, moving them away from the range of red squirts from the fountains of blood. It was unfortunate that he couldn't move them far away from the rank odor of death, of rot and infection.

The young woman fired three consecutive rounds, her body shaking, hands jumping after each squeeze of the trigger. Billy's support around her tightened, but not even he could stabilize her involuntary trembles, ones not induced from the recoils, but from her own restless heart that was emotionally bleeding more than it should. She had seen enough of these nightmarish walkers by now, but the ones in Arklay had been Umbrella researchers and employees, the creators of the very doom that took their lives. Although Rebecca pitied them for facing a fate she would never even wish upon her worst enemy, the residents in Raccoon were nothing but innocent people who had nothing to do with Umbrella's conspiracy. As the number the locals decreased, a good amount taken out by her, she was cruelly reminded yet again that that there was no hope left for the city. Her home…their home was just going to be a memory that no one would want to remember.

Rebecca closed her eyes, momentarily lost in the depressing thought as Billy stepped to the side of the bloodbath she had just created. Not one slumped body reached out to stop them as they began to drown in their own death. She whispered a silent prayer to the mass she had just eliminated, hoping that right about now, they had gotten what they wanted—eternal release.

Billy must have felt the same way she did. He didn't say anything, didn't even crack a witty comment as he led them down the wayward street.

The weight of the shotgun brought her back to reality. She reloaded it, wishing she didn't have to use it again, but knew that the chances of that were as slim as the zombies not wanting her for their next meal. An unusual sense of relief filled her when she saw the precinct come into view, her slightly broken spirit slowly replenishing as she imagined reuniting with Brad and Jill. Too much had happened since the failed initial rendezvous, so she could only hope that the idea of a reunion wasn't too impractical.

The metal gates were already open, parted widely, beckoning her in as if they had been expecting her presence again. She noticed that the gates had been sprayed with fresh blood, and the smell of it mixed with the rust from the aged gates made her heart pound before Billy stopped, his head turned to the hedge by the front entrance. Rebecca traced his attention and saw a man lying face down, viscid purple fluid running over his head, burying his face. She followed the trail of the substance, and felt her heart drop when she saw the letters imprinted on the man's yellow vest. "Brad!" she screamed, her voice tearing into the too-still hours of darkness. No sounds, no movements responded to her, just her cracked voice fading.

Billy was only stunned for a moment before he carefully lowered Rebecca to the ground. "Stay here and don't move," he instructed firmly before making his way toward the unconscious body.

Rebecca ignored his words and limped forward, using a tremendous amount of energy from her good leg to propel her. She was too numb to feel the pain in her other leg, almost forgetting that it was injured if it were not for the physical impediment of her wound slowing her down.

* * *

Billy heard her shuffle behind him and didn't stop her, knew it was futile for him to even try. He felt her against his back and used his height to his advantage, blocking her view from Brad. They both crouched beside the body, she grabbing his arm to peer over his shoulder, but he turned around and stopped her with a raised palm. She looked imploringly into his face, and he tried his best to reach her with his 'Trust me on this,' gaze, begging her to heed his silent plea.

When she sat back on her heels, he turned back to the body and gently pressed his hands against the edge of Brad's vest that was not tainted by the venom, tilting him halfway over. He didn't need to completely turn him on his back to see that his acquaintance's face was horribly disfigured. He was barely recognizable as Brad with his skin being eaten by rot, his eyes and nose stretched unevenly as the purple streaks oozed out of his facial orifices.

Billy pressed his lips together tightly and shut his eyes, rolling the body back to its former position. The sight would haunt him for some time, but he was grateful that at least Rebecca would be spared from having Brad's transformation etched in her mind. She'd just remember Brad as his youthful and somewhat cowardly self, not what he had become after his last moments as a human. He turned to face her and shook his head, the simple gesture enough for her to understand without hearing him confirm what she had feared all along.

Rebecca shakily covered her parted mouth and blinked back her tears, too paralyzed to speak and move. "No…tell me….no…"

Billy placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her body to turn, away from Brad's corpse. He hadn't known Brad for long, but he could tell that deep down, he was a good guy, and it sickened him to lose an ally who was on their side. He retraced his memories to the day he first met him in the woods, and thought about how much things had changed since then, about how Raccoon had to be sacrificed for the world to open their eyes to the truth behind Umbrella's benevolent image. The tradeoff was far too cruel, but it was out of his control, out of Brad's control.

"If it hadn't been for me," Rebecca started, her voice quivering with her eyes. "That monster…got to Brad when he lured it away from me."

She left it at that, but Billy comprehended everything as it sunk into him like a stone into water. He was the one who told Brad to look after her, and he had fulfilled his favor, possibly even at the cost of his own life. He would forever be grateful to him for that, but Billy was filled with an odd conviction that Brad had acted upon his own selflessness, as well. It was unfortunate that they could never find out for certain, but Billy silently swore that the young Alpha member's death would not be in vain, and that was a promise he intended to carry out fully.

Rebecca didn't say anything else as she gazed into the distance with blank eyes. Moments later, she turned back to Brad's body and carefully avoided looking toward his head as she dug her hand into his vest pocket, pulling out something that he had no use for anymore. "Our communication in this world had already been severed, and I didn't even know until now."

With unsteady fingers, she handed Brad's radio to Billy with a tiny, hopeful smile. She was still fighting back the tears, but spoke solidly, "Here, Brad won't be needing this anymore…"

"I'm sorry," he said, gliding a thumb over the device, pressing it against the receiver button. He noticed how cool the radio felt against his warm palm as static hissed. Billy couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that the skin of Brad's corpse was just as cold. _Rest in peace…_he prayed, closing his fist in anger over the radio, wishing that Brad could somehow hear his final request. He released his hold on the receiver button, the mechanical whine abruptly cut off before he pocketed what he wanted to consider a momento.

Rebecca shook her head, as if dismissing any further consolation Billy might offer..

"Forgive me, Brad," she breathed out. She looked paralyzed again, as if she still couldn't believe that the man before them was really gone.

Billy was ready to allow time for her silent mourning, but she recovered quicker than he had expected.

And he understood that the situation she was locked in imposed unkind conditions she was forced to accept.

Rebecca wiped her eyes roughly with her gloved wrist, sucked in a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Let's just continue…and find Jill. When we get to the helicopter, we'll have a better chance of locating her in air."

Billy stood up first and reached out his hand, helping Rebecca up. Before he could agree, a short, swift shadowy figure outside the gate caught his attention. He gaze locked upon eyes of a little girl, the faint light from a nearby lamppost revealing her short, blonde hair pushed back by a red headband. Her school uniform was dirty and stained, and the bookbag strapped on her back seemed too big and heavy for her. She didn't move from the gates, an indecisive, but determined expression that made her seem older than she really was, remained on her face as she stared at Billy.

She stayed for a beat longer, and then, as if she had made her decision, took off into the open street.

* * *

A/N: It's Sherry! I know I said that Billy and Rebecca will be meeting a RE2 character in this chapter, so I'm sorry that the 'meeting' was insanely short! It's just that some extra ideas started popping into this chapter so I'm going to have a much bigger focus on Sherry in the next chapter. Ahh…sadly, there's no way to write Leon and Claire into this story, but I do have an idea about someone else later. I'm hoping it'll work out, even if it's just for a brief cameo. I decided to give Regan the job of reviving Nemesis here because it was never quite explained how Nemesis kept coming back in RE3 after you knock him out. I think it also gives him a bigger and meaningful purpose of being in Raccoon besides setting the bombs in the facilities and just 'trying to kill Billy and Rebecca.' =)

Sorry about the wait for this chapter. This update took longer than usual because I started a Wesker/Claire story (still far from done, though), and that took up a lot of my time.

I hope everyone had a great holiday, and I wish you all a Happy New Year! Again, I cannot thank you guys enough for reading and writing back to me. I really do appreciate every single review I get, so thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!


	17. Chapter 17

Mother Love

**Monday, September 28th, night**

Sherry was just a child. It was a fact, but tonight, she wanted to deny it and feel older, stronger than she was in her fragile body. But when she saw the adults fall, eaten alive by those monsters, she wasn't so sure if she wanted to be one anymore. In fact, it was her small and slim stature that had enabled her to squeeze through tiny apertures within the city. She had never known that there were so many in the city, but felt incredibly lucky that each one, whether it was a ventilation canal in a store or a cracked opening in a wall, provided her with an escape from those horrible creatures.

She wanted to cry, just really sit down and let her tears and stress flow, but hadn't found the time yet. She had been stuck in her school, East Raccoon Elementary, when her heart folded into itself upon hearing that the barricade the school staff had formed around the building buckled, both teachers and students, and friends she knew lost to the wave of the undead that had poured through on all sides of the school proper. She remembered how stiff her entire body had become, the cogs in her mind spinning for desperate ideas that were ignored by her paralyzed limbs. If it hadn't been for her teacher, who had pushed her through one of the broken windows into the streets that weren't much safer, she would have been swallowed by the massacre of the zombies that had overrun the one place that felt more like a home to her than her real home.

Zombies.

Sherry still couldn't believe that they could actually exist, much alive and real like her thudding heart. She had seen a few horror movies a few months ago, and never would have imagined that she'd be living through one, seeing her friends and teachers being eaten by fictional horror…

She wiped her moist eyes with her dirty sleeves, reminding herself what her mother had told her right after she was pushed out the window. Her mother's voice, frantic and blaring through the cell phone, instructed her to go back home and retrieve her locket, and then head towards the police station for safety. She had also warned Sherry to stay away from strangers, people, even those who were willing to help her for she'd only put them in danger. The phone line immediately died after that daunting message, causing Sherry to feel more alone than she ever did in her life, and that included the countless lonely days she spent by herself, her parents too engrossed in their work to even come home.

What was so important with their work that they couldn't even take a few hours off in a _week _to spend some time with her? Over the last few months, during the short amount of time she did see her father, she noticed that he was extremely erratic and edgy. She was even aware that he had stashed some of his research notes and various letters into her notebook, telling her to keep them in her cubby at school for the time being along with some other complicated and eerie looking vials that she was to have in her backpack at all times.

"What's going on?" the young girl whispered to herself, tilting the locket in her small hand until she caught a reflection of her own sadness. She drew her legs toward her chest and straightened her back before putting on her best game face, a tiny grin splitting her distressed visage. Clasping the pendant against her chest, she began to feel secure, accepting that it even brought her luck that she never would have believed in before tonight.

Sherry had already made it this far from her school and was still in one piece. She had seen the police station, and had a good feeling that her mother would be inside waiting for her with other survivors. The only setback so far was that she had also seen two people that she wasn't supposed to come in contact with, her mother's strict instructions playing in her head again.

One person she had seen was a tall and intimidating looking man with a strange tattoo running down one of his arms. The other one was a much shorter woman with short hair and a pretty face. Both of them expressed looks of concern when they acknowledged her, making her feel warm and worthy at that instant before she turned and fled, pushing away the foreign emotions as her short legs carried her around the street and into a ravaged grocery store.

She didn't doubt that they were probably looking for her now. She had heard their footsteps echoing through the vast courtyard of the precinct when she was running far, far away from the nice-looking people that she was capable of endangering. It frustrated her to not know _why _she couldn't be near anyone, her mother's message nothing but a few cryptic words to her. Still, Sherry had detected the gravity in her voice, and knew better than to disobey a hysteric Annette.

She continued counting the seconds that ticked by, starting from one, and silently wondered when would be a good time for her to come out of hiding. After reaching one hundred, she couldn't take the eerie silence anymore and crawled out from beneath the cash register stand, edging towards the glass door of the shop. Most of her form was still hidden by the darkness of the non-lit room, only her face visible through the glass.

Not a soul passed by the street, no humans, no zombies. She was about to stand up and unlock the door when a low growl emitted behind her, the inhuman moan from a black corner making her freeze against the door. A cold chill ran down her spine when she realized that she had forgotten to check the entire store before assuming it was a safe hiding place.

Sherry didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see what she already knew was behind her, the soft shuffling of its mushy feet creeping in her direction. A jolt of panic revived her senses and locked limbs, her hands fumbling with the lock of the door. She wiggled it, jerked the slide left and right to no avail. The lock was jammed, and unless she broke down the glass with something or found a way to somersault through it without killing herself first, she was going to be zombie food very soon. The latter wasn't possible due to her petite body so she turned around and tried to find something to use to break the glass—

-and that was when she screamed, the flesh-eater much closer to her than she had expected. She rammed into the door, reeling her shoulder in as long, rotten fingers narrowly missed their target, grabbing at air. She wasn't sure if she was going to be so lucky with the next attack.

Sherry turned the lock again, hot tears springing from her eyes and clouding her vision as the lock continued to stubbornly resist her attempts. Out of pure desperation, she let go of the lock and curled her hands into fists and began pounding on the door, yelling for help and immensely regretting that she had turned away from the precinct, away from safety.

"HELP!" she cried, urgency and despondency fused in her voice.

Sherry let out a yelp when something cold and slimy wrapped around her ankles, pulling her body against the wooden boards of the floor. The movement was so quick and sudden that she didn't have time to catch her fall with her palms, landing face first into the hard, dusty ground. She grunted, all ten fingers stretched to grab on to something, anything, as she felt her legs being dragged, retreating to the awaiting maw of her killer.

"Nooo!" she shrieked, slamming her palms into the floorboard, nails painfully digging into the small fissures. It was a hopeless attempt to brake her light body from being hauled further, but at this point, it was the only thing she could do. _Please…no…this is not how I want to die! Mother…_

There were two faint shadows on the street that immediately caught her attention, and as they stepped closer to the store, Sherry realized that they were the people she had seen in front of the precinct. She quickly emerged from her morbid thoughts and cupped her mouth with her scratched hands, bellowing the loudest "HELP!" she could muster in between her soft sobs.

The woman turned around first and pointed to the door. The man nodded and aimed his handgun at the glass, the bullet sending the explosion of shattered pieces to land like falling droplets of rain. With a twist kick, the lock broke off and the entire door swung left, smashing into a shelf.

The man only spared a second to look into her eyes before he raised his gun, one eye closed as he carefully took aim at something she couldn't see behind her. Instinctively, Sherry threw her arms over her head and pressed it into the old floor. She heard the bullet heavily whiz over her and the hold on her ankles instantly broke away. Reflexively, she drew her legs against her chest and cowered in the fetal position, both arms quivering over her tightly closed eyes. All her muscles tensed when something warm and soft brushed over her arm and squeezed her hand lightly.

"Hey, are you all right?"

A soothing and beautiful voice whispered against her the shell of her ear, and in her brief moment of delirium, she thought it was her mother speaking to her. It had been such a long time, eight years perhaps, since she had heard such affection in a female's voice, the tone pouring genuine worry that made her heart feel tender.

Sherry slowly parted the fingers shielding her face, and looked up to find that kind face of the same woman she saw earlier. She was kneeling down beside her, one hand still on her arm. Next to the sweet-looking woman, the man who had saved her circled around the store once before putting his weapon away, a look of resolve and relief etched in his features. She still thought he looked intimidating given his serious stare and his built stature, but the fact that he had saved her eased most of her fears.

"Umm…yes…" she managed to mutter. She began to sit up and felt the young woman's hand behind her back, helping her up gently. "Thank you…"

"I'm Rebecca and that's Billy," she said warmly and pointed to her partner. "What's your name?"

"Sherry…"

Rebecca beamed, her eyes lighting up even in the dark. "That's a pretty name. Sherry, how about I patch you up?"

Fresh tears brimmed against Sherry's lower eyelids, for a completely different reason than fear. She hardly knew Billy and Rebecca, but they offered her the comfort and security she had longed for almost her entire life, what her own parents couldn't provide. It was such a strange feeling. Not even her friends at school and her teachers had ever made her feel this way, yet, these two selfless strangers she had met for no more than a few minutes had the ability to make her feel more treasured and worthy than she felt in her entire twelve years. Too emotionally wracked, she just nodded weakly.

Billy crouched down, too, and watched Rebecca maternally clean and bandage Sherry's wounds, and though he looked too serious for Sherry's liking, the expression of awe he wore now made her smile. Rebecca turned to him and caught his eyes, perhaps even caught him staring a little intently at her. He gave her a small grin and she looked away, almost shyly, and continued to wrap another layer of gauze over Sherry's right hand.

Now, he turned to her, and she couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind as he studied her. She suddenly felt embarrassed by her dirty school uniform, the sailor-like blouse and navy shorts stained with grime and blood. The scars on her usual smooth, clear skin didn't help much either.

"Why did you run away from us?" he asked, struggling just a little to use his friendliest tone.

"Yes, why did you run away from us, Sherry? It's dangerous here," Rebecca added, naturally sounding supportive and caring. She removed the book bag from her back to alleviate some pressure before she started to clean a bloody wound on her knee.

Sherry captured her locket in her small hands and held it tightly, remembering the time, a few months ago, when her mother gave the necklace to her as a small present, a very rare occurrence. It was on a nippy, spring evening, the first time in weeks she had come home early. Annette had pulled her into her lap on their porch. Following a tender peck on her forehead, she slipped the locket into her palms, the long chain running like golden sand between her tiny fingers. She had told her it was for good luck, but was forbidden to wear it on a normal basis. Sherry had been confused, didn't know what the purpose of the present was if she couldn't even use it. Having been brought up to be overly obedient, she trusted her mother's words without questions, and tonight, this charm had guided her into the security of these two wonderful strangers.

_Strangers…_she reminded herself, knowing they were precisely the people she shouldn't be near, much less talk to. What was it about her that would be a threat to others?

Sherry knew she was being selfish by basking in the prohibited warmth of her saviors, but she couldn't find the strength to remove herself from it just yet. She wanted to stay longer, just a little longer. It was the only thing she wanted besides being with her parents again, so all three individuals, her, her mother, and her father, could be the family she had always _desired, _not the one she had. She knew she would be doing her mother a great disservice by not obeying her words, but the anger she had buried away deep within the recess of her being was starting to surface, and she didn't quell it anymore because she didn't want to. From the first day she was old enough to fully perceive her parents' negligence towards her till this moment, she had always thought her patience would pay off in the end, that there would be a reward for the abandonment she had to cope with when none of her other peers had to deal with what she was going through. All these years, it had always been what her parents wanted, and she never got what she had been waiting for, for so long.

"My mother told me to stay away from people…that I would endanger them if I were near them," she spoke, her speech quivering like the cold chill that ran down her spine, but as each word rolled off her tongue, she felt a liberating sensation like no other feeling she had ever experienced. It was strange, new, and she loved it too much to stop feeling it, so she continued, "My parents…they work for Umbrella. They're both busy researchers…and as a result, they hardly have time to spend with me…"

Sherry tensed, expecting Rebecca to push her away and leave with Billy, but not before shooting her a disgusted look. She wouldn't blame them if the scenario turned out like that, already knew that the citizens of Raccoon were starting to suspect Umbrella for turning their city into a nightmare that couldn't have existed until the reality of it proved otherwise.

Rebecca and Billy exchanged the same affirmative look, as if mutually agreeing on something.

Billy spoke first before the silence began to drag out awkwardly. "Sweetie, why would your mother tell you that you would endanger people?"

"She never told me the reason. I hate when I'm told to do something and can't even ask why. Even though my parents are never around, I always feel so trapped...it's…" Sherry wanted to say more, but didn't know where to begin. No one understood her, and sometimes, she didn't even understand herself. "It's just hard to explain," she dismissed, freeing the locket from her hands. "Not even my own mother knows me…"

"I hear ya, kid," Billy mumbled, causing both Sherry and Rebecca to look up with great interest.

Sherry noticed that Rebecca wore the same curious look she must have had on her own face. Leaving Billy with no choice but to continue, he began, "My father died when I was very little, I barely remember him. It's just been my mom and me after his death. My dad was a very rich man so I guess you can say I came from an extremely wealthy family…but even with all the money, I was never happy living at home, living with my mom."

"She was a nasty woman with a cruel personality. Selfish, didn't give a damn about anyone but herself and her reputation. She tried to mold me into one of those prissy, little rich kids, telling me what to wear, how to act, hired professionals to give me lessons I wasn't really into, like piano," he said with a small chuckle and looked at Rebecca. 'But at least _that _actually came in handy."

Sherry saw Rebecca grin back and realized it was probably some secret inside joke that they both shared. Even though she didn't understand what that little joke was, she found herself beaming, too, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off her tired shoulders. So there was someone who could relate to her after all, someone who knew exactly how she felt even though his situation was different from hers.

"Billy, I had no idea," Rebecca whispered. She looked like she wanted to say more but Billy nodded toward Sherry.

"Oh, Sherry…this will sting a little. I'm going to disinfect your knee so try not to concentrate on the pain too much," Rebecca warned before dousing the wound with a cotton ball soaked with a cool, but tingling liquid.

Rebecca really didn't lie. A scalding sensation enveloped her knee for a few moments and she instantly grabbed on to Billy's arm, the one with the tattoo, and squeezed hard, her knuckles turning white.

Billy patted her hands, like he understood how much pain she was probably in right now. Then, as if he wanted to distract her from the pain, he continued with his story. "As I got older, I disagreed with almost everything she believed in. I couldn't believe how condescending she could be and hated her for thinking so lowly of others just because they could never rival her wealth. Needless to say, she was very disappointed and ashamed of me because I was so different from her. When I became a little older than you, Sherry, I decided that I wasn't going to use her money anymore; I didn't want to have anything to do with her. I worked part time and went to school part time, and after I graduated, I decided I wanted to join the Marines to help others, to fight for…" He trailed off, the remainder of his sentence lost in his throat before he swallowed and shook his head, a poor attempt to eradicate the aftermath of his decision to join the Marines, a decision he still reflected upon.

"What is it?" Sherry asked, almost too afraid to hear the answer.

Rebecca's previously deft fingers slowed as she blinked a few times, her lids pushing back a light sheen of what Sherry thought to be tears. Looking up to him and somewhat forgetting about Sherry's knee, Rebecca caught his eyes, but didn't turn away this time. The young woman silently communicated her troubled thoughts, her slightly upturned eyebrows over green eyes, wide and shimmering, and her lips, downward pout.

Sherry remained still between the two adults, who were lost in their own realm that did not invite her presence. Billy never finished his sentence, and she was old enough to perceive his reluctance to continue. She wouldn't pester him about it, already too grateful that he had allowed her a glimpse into the scope of his personal space. "Did you ever see your mom again?" she sputtered quietly, breaking the peace with a question that particularly bugged her. It was only after she asked that she began to realize maybe she didn't have the right to interrupt such an engaging moment between Billy and Rebecca.

To her relief, neither of them seemed offended in the least. They both smiled weakly, Rebecca returning her attention back to her knee, Billy facing her, looking a little thankful that she had brought up something to distract _him_.

"No…it's been almost seven years since I last saw and talked to her. I'm not even sure where she is anymore, but wherever she is, I'm sure she's happy with all her money. Plus, she no longer has to worry about a son who humiliates her, " he admitted_. _Sadness briefly flashed in his eyes and disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Do you…still love her?" Sherry asked with hesitation.

Instead of declaring his response in a straightforward fashion, he moved the arm that Sherry was clinging on to closer to her face. She studied the tattoo assiduously, and Rebecca leaned forward, too, capturing an interest in what Sherry had thought to be just a tribal design that rowdy kids had. When she looked closer, Sherry realized it wasn't just a pattern. It was an intricate weaving of a string of letters that spelled out two words that made her involuntary shake with awe.

"Mother Love…" the females slowly said in unison after they traced the upward and downward curves of the letters.

"We never got along but she's still my mother. Though we haven't seen each other since the day I stepped out of my home, I still want her close to me. So yes, I do still love her and always will.

Sherry nodded. "Why don't you go back and see her…after you get out of here. It's been a long time, right? Maybe things changed?" she asked hopefully.

She saw Billy's jaw tense and Rebecca quickly replied, "I'm sure he wants to, but it's just not an option right now…due to certain circumstances…" She smoothed out Sherry's hair, straightened her headband, and wrapped a final layer of gauze over her knee, securing it with Durapore tape.

"I see…"

Rebecca tossed an arm over her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Sherry, I'm sure your mother loves you very much. I mean, sure she spends a lot of time at work with your father, but because of their success, they're able to provide for you."

By the sudden change in topic, Sherry knew that there was something else the two adults were hiding, something awful that made Billy's earlier sympathetic gaze harden. She wanted to know what was bothering him, so she could try to help him feel better, like he had done for her, but it was just wishful thinking. Even though she was in no position to console him, she didn't doubt that Rebecca would be by his side. They seemed to know each other very well, were able to relay their thoughts without words. It was something her mother and father used to do when she was very young. Whenever they wanted to avoid saying something aloud in front of her over the dinner table, or when she was snuggled between them in their huge bed, they would look into each other's eyes; it was always in the eyes. She had always thought it was something special that only two people, who loved each other as much as her mother and father loved each other, could accomplish.

"Be strong," Billy added, as if imparting to her his wisest words of wisdom.

A simple phrase of encouragement, yet, he would never know the profound impact it had on her now, and would continue to have on her for the tortuous days to come. The linear mission she was given earlier this morning by her mother suddenly became a foray into out of bounds paths, and as Sherry mentally found herself exploring these roads, she discovered they all led to the same end where a spiritual awakening was waiting for her to claim. Her mother's demands, merged with her own insights, had taken on a new meaning, giving her a new ambition that she was all too eager to fulfill.

She would find her parents as originally planned and leave Raccoon City with them, as a family. Then, she would spill what had been on her mind, all her inner struggles that she had harbored to herself since her early childhood days. They would listen, she would make sure of it, because a few minutes of their undivided attention was the least they could give her after years of desertion. Beneath her dark well of hate and anger, the unconditional love she had for her parents still blossomed brightly, and she could feel it urging to rise above the haze of doubt. She didn't want to end up like Billy, imprisoned in a situation that restricted her from being with the two people who were most important to her.

_Be strong…_his words echoed in her mind, and God, she was trying so very hard to. She still didn't understand her mother's blunt request, but had a feeling she would very shortly. Then, everything would make sense, and she'd feel a little better about heartlessly running away from the two beautiful souls she'd always be grateful to.

Sherry prayed that Billy and Rebecca would eventually find out that contrary to her actions, what she was about to do was driven by good intentions. If she was a threat to people in the slightest, she came to her _own _decision that she couldn't risk having the duo hurt because of her; she'd never be able to forgive herself.

"Billy, Rebecca, thank you for all you've done for me…" she said in her strongest voice and stood up, cupping her good hand over her bandaged one, already missing how tenderly Rebecca had held it between her soft palms. "I-I don't know what's going on and I can't explain it, but please don't search for me. Trust me, I'm going to find my parents and be all right. Good-bye…" She barely managed to utter the last word without being choked by tears first as two confounded expressions were imprinted in her memory and vision when she turned and fled from the store.

Sherry felt alone, bare, but hopeful as she ran with a speed she didn't know she possessed, the burning in her lungs just as harrowing as coming to accept she had inadvertently plunged a metaphorical knife into two hearts of gold. Three things spurred her to keep moving forward without looking back: knowing she was a danger to Billy and Rebecca, her yearning to find her parents, and Billy's last words to her.

* * *

A/N: This chapter turned out longer than I had intended it to be. Ideas just started coming to me. I did want to devote a full chapter to Sherry, but thought at the last minute that maybe it'd be better if I could somehow parallel her background with Billy's past. I was going to bring up Billy's family in a later chapter, but it suddenly felt more appropriate to state it here so I hope it worked well! Yes, Billy's tattoo really reads "Mother Love," a song by Queen, but I did not know how to work that detail into the story here so I gave my own interpretation. I hope it turned out okay!

Sherry was also a little complicated to write because I had to come up with an explanation as to why she was always running, and of course, picked the most obvious one—Annette warning her not to go near people because she's in possession of the G-virus, and does not want the virus stolen.

I hope everyone's enjoying the New Year! I'm going back to school next week so I honestly cannot say right now if future updates will take longer than usual or not. I need to see how busy my classes keep me first. A huge thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I always enjoy reading the comments and appreciate the attention you guys give this story. Thank you so much!


	18. Chapter 18

Release

**Monday, September 28th, night**

"Any luck?" Rebecca asked hopefully, even though she already knew the answer when she saw Billy walking toward her by himself.

The fugitive shook his head and let out an aggravated sigh. "No…she didn't come by here again, did she?"

She shook her head, too.

Sherry had run off unexpectedly, and though they had been quick to follow her, the little girl proved to be quicker. When they reached the streets, there wasn't a single trace of where she had gone off. Billy and Rebecca had split up to search for her, and after they failed to find her on the nearby streets, they met up again in front of the station. The precinct seemed to be an appropriate place Sherry would go to, but as soon as they entered the front doors, they took back their assumptions.

The sound of their footsteps, the hungry moans from the undead inside, and the blasts from their weapons echoed unnaturally loud in the vast vestibule of the station. The floor was flooded with blood, the walls stained with green and yellowish viscous drippings that made Rebecca gag in her mouth. The rancid stench was overwhelming, but considering that it couldn't hurt them physically, Rebecca tolerated it better than she thought she would. After clearing the entrance of threats, Billy had gone to investigate the first floor while Rebecca stayed in the foyer (hoping to catch Sherry if she were to pass through) and fumbled with the computer at the receptionist's desk.

She had at least found something that made her want to cry with relief. She motioned for Billy to come over and pointed to the computer screen. "No…but look at this. All the doors here have been electronically unlocked…by Jill's S.T.A.R.S. card. She was here."

She was so happy that she had the sudden urge to hug him. She didn't act on his instinct though, just simply bit her lip and watched the flickering computer screen with amazement. Losing Brad had been rough, and she couldn't imagine how she'd react if she were to find out that Jill had suffered the same fate.

"Thank God. You don't think she's still around, do you?"

Rebecca typed something on the keyboard and the screen changed to a bunch of symbols. "Probably not. According to the data, the doors were unlocked nearly an hour ago."

"Aren't you quite the hacker, little girl?"

"Brad showed me how to break into the precinct system once…" she whispered, failing to catch the slight humor in his tone. Her hands slowly fell away from the desk, eyes moisture lining her eyes.

Billy stepped closer to her. Lowering his head until his chin situated against her right ear, he reassured, "Hey, we're gonna make sure he did not die in vain."

She felt him squeeze her shoulder gently before shaking it, calling out of her somberness. Coming from anyone else, she would think they were just words of support, but from Billy, she knew he meant business. Brad had been an acquaintance of his, and although he handled the Alpha member's death much better than her, she knew the loss incited him to finish what Brad couldn't. "Definitely," she assented with a solemn nod.

She turned away from the computer, her interest locking on the backpack lying next to it; Sherry had forgotten to take when she ran off. The bag was awfully heavy for a child to carry, and she doubted that the only thing inside were just books after she felt the edges of it and the strange shapes beneath the cloth material.

"Did you see what was inside?" Billy asked, examining the backpack, too.

"Gonna find out now," she answered as she began to unzip the flaps. She reached inside the bag and felt around, fishing out a work book, a notebook, pencils—just some ordinary supplies a child of her age would carry, but she was sure she had felt something thick and smooth protruding from the side before. Her suspicions were confirmed when her fingers caught on to something cold and hard, and when she pulled it out, she felt a frown rising with an upsurge of confusion and shock. It was a black metal box, about the size of a standard novel book, cold and heavy in her hands, with Umbrella's logo impressed on the shiny surface of the lid. The box was sealed with a rectangular, white combination lock—four digits were required.

Billy carefully took it into his hands and looked at it thoughtfully, idly rolling the dials with his thumb.

It was nearly impossible to find the correct combination via the trial and error method, which meant that whatever was encased inside must be something important, or deadly, considering it belonged to Umbrella.

"There's more," Rebecca continued, and produced a stack of crinkled documents, rolled together and secured with a rubber band. She bit her lower lip, was draped with a curtain of hesitance as she thought about reading what the documents had to say. She knew she'd be intruding in on family privacy, secrets that were not meant to be exposed to outsiders, but as a former S.T.A.R.S. member, she also had a duty to her people, to her late friends. That decided it for her, prompting her fingers to remove the rubber band.

_Bang bang!_

The ringing shots instantly made her freeze as she clutched the roll of paper so firmly in her hands that they began to slightly tremble, her fists wavering with tightness. Billy immediately raised his handgun and swept the lobby with his weapon, finger instinctively inching towards the trigger. His eye intensely roved about the expanse of the first floor, but they both noted nothing out of the ordinary. However, they were too aware that that didn't mean anything. Just because threats were not visibly splayed, that didn't mean they didn't exist.

She fumbled with tucking the files into her belt and withdrew her Samurai Edge.

Billy waited a few moments longer before turning to Rebecca, handing her the box in his hands. She acknowledged his intention with a nod and slipped it into her fanny pack.

"I-it doesn't look like we're alone…" She failed to hide the shakiness in her voice that resonated alarm as she followed Billy out of the reception desk area.

"I know," Billy whispered.

The last time she checked, the zombies weren't smart enough to fire guns, so by that deduction, they were not alone in the precinct. Someone else was here with them, and it was too early to tell whether they were in the presence of a friend or foe, but for all their sakes, she hoped it was the latter. But, in the event that they were stuck with a foe, she certainly didn't want to publicly declare her injury, a disadvantage that could be used against them later.

Billy seemed to have had the same thought. He lowered his gun halfway and turned to face her, nodding toward her leg. "Your leg still doing okay? Think you'll be able to manage without my help?" He winked, but there was no humor in his softly spoken words.

"It's better," she assured, her voice equally low. "I've made it this far without your help, right?" Worry was replaced with pride for a brief moment before she gave him a thumbs-up, signifying she was ready for whatever he had in mind.

"I think I overestimated you. You're a lot tougher than you look." Billy smirked. He raised his head toward the second floor balcony, where he had turned to when the shot first exploded, disrupting the haunting silence that was a distraction in itself.

Now, they had something new to worry about. Of course they could just leave, after all, with the many corpses of dead officers lingered about, it didn't seem like Sherry or any other civilians were here. But, if whoever had fired the gun was an ally or someone who needed help, she'd be more than willing to provide the necessary aid.

"The shot was fired from the second floor," Billy stated.

"You didn't notice anything strange on the first floor, right?"

"Define strange…" Billy muttered, but didn't elaborate.

The way he said it sent icy shivers down Rebecca's back, but it was a heads-up nonetheless.

"Second floor, got it. Let me lead."

Rebecca made for the door on the left, above the ramp, and Billy followed closely behind. The thought that the shooter could have been that soldier she had seen earlier crossed her mind. That would make a lot of sense if her initial assumption that he was going to capture her were true. "Hey Billy. Earlier, I saw some Umbrella soldiers…you don't think they're here, do you?"

He frowned. "You saw, too?"

She raised a brow. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who had seen someone from that squad. "Briefly. As soon as I noticed they were Umbrella soldiers, I immediately ran. I think one of them may have seen me though…" She trailed off after realizing her carelessness, and wanted to beat herself for it. They were probably still out there hunting for her and Jill. Her hands began to slip from the knob, her mind having second thoughts about pursuing the stranger in the building. She waited for Billy to show a sign that he agreed with her that there was a good chance they were walking into a trap. Instead, he surprised her by rubbing his chin, his lips tugging into a small grin when he pulled his hand away.

"Could have been the same person," he mumbled as if reminding himself, confusing her even more.

"Huh?"

"I saw a man earlier, Carlos. Said he was a mercenary for Umbrella but lost his entire team. Apparently, he was on a rescue mission to save the civilians of Raccoon."

"What? Umbrella caused this mess!"

"I know it doesn't make sense…but Carlos said he didn't understand anything either. He got called away, probably by his squad leader, before I could get anything else out of him. However, he did help me locate you. He mentioned he saw a young woman running toward the police station. The descriptions fit you to tee."

Rebecca blinked, didn't know what to make of the revelation. If this _Carlos _had helped Billy find her, then perhaps her original judgment of him had been wrong. He probably didn't even know she was a part of S.T.A.R.S.. But, the fact that he was hired by Umbrella didn't allay her qualms. She was torn and it showed through her speech. "So what? Do we trust him or not if we run into him?"

Billy observed the antechamber of the station and the balcony of the second floor in a full, quick sweep before pointing to the golden door in front of them with his gun. "Let's not jump into conclusions. He may not even be here, but if we do run into him again, we'll try to get more answers from him first. Be on guard," he warned, his request sounding more like a plea.

Rebecca supposed he was right. They didn't know enough about Carlos to not deem him to be a threat even though Billy had spoken rather favorably of him.

"Understood."

Billy turned into the office area first after Rebecca eased the door open.. Nothing could have prepared Rebecca for what she was witnessing, her arms growing weak as she rapidly blinked a few times to just to make sure what she was seeing was not conjured by the imagination. The entire room looked as if had been regurgitated by a vicious tornado. Long shelves were turned over, scattering books, files, and loose pages all over the floor and the fractured wooden tables that ran the length of the office. The doors of the private cubicles and cabinets wilted, only loosely supported by aged, rusty hinges that didn't look like they could sustain much weight any longer. Glass occasionally crunched beneath her tentative footsteps, only when the soles her boots did not glide easily along the slimy trail of blood that snaked like broken capillaries.

The weak fluorescent lighting from above flickered, sporadically casting dark, eerie shadows on the deteriorating, bullet-ridden walls—evidence that the policemen had put in a great deal of effort to make their last stand. That was why it was so hard to look at the corpses sprawled on the floor, their uniforms soaked through and through with blood and other nauseating fluids. One desk in particular captured her interest. She carefully avoided the dead bodies as she walked toward it. Confetti, two liters of soda, some cake, chips, and other party favors covered the surface of the desk.

Rebecca picked up a card that was tucked beneath a bag of candy and read it. "Apparently they were tying to throw a party for a new cop named Leon."

"Guess he's gonna miss it."

She set the card back down and backed away from the table. It was hard to believe that this place used to be like a home to her, a sanctuary even. Now, she didn't know what it was, the familiarity associated with the precinct felt like quicksand in an hourglass—it would only be a matter of time before it was all drained.

Exhaling a deep breath, she nodded to Billy. "We better hurry if we want to catch that person."

He seemed relieved that she was handling the situation well. In a way, she was glad that he had come earlier to clear the room. It wasn't difficult for him to shoot down the threats for he had no personal connections to the precinct and the staff, but it was different for Rebecca; she would have hesitated.

"Gotcha," he affirmed, running beside her as she guided him to the door at the end of the long office.

* * *

The evidence room was as he remembered it to be—silent, devoid of any bloodshed and signs of fighting. It was most creepy how stable and ordinary it appeared, situated in the middle of a disintegrating, infectious building. There were two drawers were pulled opening, revealing emptiness in their wake. It was a detail Billy had noticed when he first made his round through the room. He hadn't thought much of it then, but now he was beginning to wonder just what the hell had been removed.

"Here." Rebecca gestured him over, calling him out of his thoughts. She gripped the knob of the steel door at the narrow corner and turned when he nodded in approval.

He stepped into the corridor for the second time, gun trained on the flaccid bodies on the ground in case he hadn't fully taken care of one of them earlier. Satisfied that none budged, he followed Rebecca down the hall, and before he could draw her attention towards one of the broken windows, she stopped, already noticing that there was something peculiar about how it had disassembled. The entire pane, one and a half times her height in length and width, had erupted, the pieces of the once solid glass pooling beneath her feet like an overflowing fountain. He didn't need to be very knowledgeable with the architecture of the precinct to understand that something unnatural had caused the gaping hole between the frames. He sorted through a chain of possibilities, but none of them seemed valid. The walls and the other windows beside it were not damaged. It was as if something had burst through this particular one, with a certain intention in mind.

"It couldn't have been…" She didn't allow herself to finish the sentence, but he was almost certain he shared the same thought she had,

Fear in him rose too, but it only inspired him to raise his guard, be twice as keen. "Let's just find the person on the second floor and then get the hell out of here."

Billy pushed her toward the stairs in an effort to get her feet moving again. Casting one last apprehensive look at the void, black against the backdrop of the clear night, he proceeded up the stairs. As they walked in silence, he began to wonder how many times she had taken this route to her office countless times, but tonight was the first time Rebecca would notice how the steps would moan in resistance as she ascended. Though he hadn't been in the RPD before tonight, he was sure the police department had never been this empty, this quiet.

It wasn't the most pleasing sound to his ears, but it was strangely comforting to be reminded that there was still life. He followed her as she cut through the clear, narrow path ahead, arriving at the end of the walkway. There was a creepy statue of a "god holding up his soul" by the door at the end of the hall, greeting them with one arm raised. He noticed she tried to avert her gaze from its face as well. Having it stand in the middle of an infected station was just too ominous.

* * *

The next turn of the knob sent an avalanche of pricks toward her defenseless heart. Briefly, voices that did not belong to her or Billy echoed through the new hall. Familiar and endearing laughs, cries, screams, playful banters embraced her in a fleeting whirlwind, as distant as a dream now, for that was what they were. How she wanted to hear them just once more, even if they had been nothing but a cacophony of incoherencies.

She felt Billy's gaze piercing into her. His curiosity was sated when he saw the S.T.A.R.S. office under the moonbeam, the golden plaque etched on the door glowing ethereally against the stream of pale light.

"Rebecca…"

"I'm okay," she stated, her eyes quickly hardening into determination.

"No, you're not," he countered and grabbed her wrist before she could slip away and pretend nothing had happened.

"Okay, so what if I'm not. What are _you _going to do about it?"

Her voice was above a whisper, tone devoid of resentment and anger, but even in her calmness, she knew he had been challenged. Meeting his match, his answer became apparent when he loosened his grip on her wrist.

"Exactly…" she confirmed, lips curving into a rueful smile.

She could tell that the single word stabbed him with helplessness, and a part of her hoped that he now knew how she'd felt when she tried to get him to open up to her about his past. They both had their inner demons caged inside, and she didn't want him to fight his on his own.

Footsteps inside the office broke her train of thought. She froze. Who the hell could be inside? Maybe it was Jill. God, she prayed that it was her.

Having no choice but to set the short-lived but alarming conversation aside, he admonished, "Don't think you're off the hook. I'm not through with you yet."

He was starting to sound like her parents, and she had always hated how condescending they were toward her when she was younger—how they'd point their accusative index fingers in her face to intimidate her even if it was for her own good. Yes, he sounded like her parents, but the semblance ended there. His intentions and concerns were completely strayed from daunting her. _Thanks, Coen._

Billy took the lead this time. He braced his back against one side of the doorframe, Rebecca on the other. When she acknowledged she was ready with a quick nod, he grabbed the knob and mouthed to three before swinging the door open. They turned into the room simultaneously, guns arching with their arms, both weapons pointing to the back of a man whose stocky built and receding hairline was all too distinguishing to Rebecca. He twisted around slowly, hardly concerned that they could have been possible threats.

She immediately identified a Ruger 10/22 in his hands, a popular rifle used for hunting, when he fully faced them. He made no attempts to discharge the rifle, his eyes vapid, betraying not a single discernible sentiment.

Rebecca was caught in the toils of resentment, confusion, and disgust, but none of those emotions materialized in her actions. She was staring at the very person who had played a significant role in the Umbrella conspiracy, was greatly responsible for the illegal activities that had cost her friends their lives, and eventually, the city's demise, yet, she felt like a frigid waterfall had just drenched her, numbing all her senses. It was almost cleansing—to feel as light as the whisper that escaped her lips. "Irons…" Like his gaze, there were no inflections in her statement. She couldn't retract herself from his eyes and felt like she was seeing a mirror image of her own face when the darkest days fell upon her after the Mansion Incident.

That was how she was able to read his two slits into black inkwells, and realize that he too had lost something of great importance.

"So you're the infamous chief," Billy breathed out vehemently."You're the devious bastard who not only manipulated devious schemes, but also hearts and minds."

* * *

"Correct," came Irons's brassy voice as he adjusted his attention on the man next to the former Bravo member. Without a doubt, he was certain that man was Billy Coen. The corners of his mouth turned upward slightly. It was a smile born from his inner amazement. Somehow, he, the creator and programmer of his own wicked game, had lost to the players who were designated to lose to each other. But now, having surely gleaned his plans, they were here to annihilate him and claim his corpse as their reward. It wasn't too late to turn the table, though. He still had his trusted rifle at his side, the very one that had helped him procure his prized hunting trophies. The mayor's daughter was the latest addition to his proud collection, but who said there wasn't room for more spoils.

Earlier, he had danced under the rain of blood, the darkest region of his soul fervently cheering him on, as the entire police department became his playground, the survivors his targets. Once he had them in his crosshair, they became nothing more than another memory that would be buried with the city, what was supposed to be his city. Umbrella had sworn to make him mayor of Raccoon sooner than he'd anticipated, but now, their shower of promises dried, and his parched heart was left unquenched, left desperate for anything to satiate its appetite—even poison.

All the plans he had for Raccoon would never come to fruition; they were never even given the chance to evolve outside his mind.

"WHY?" he bellowed to the heavens, collapsing to his knees. He was hurting so much. Without a kingdom, the king's people would surely suffer. He knew the title of a tyrant was more befitting for him, but somewhere within the recess of his mind, he could see himself as a good and just ruler. Lies, manipulation, greed, and death had paved the way for his throne, but he just couldn't find himself sitting on it if he didn't give back what he had stolen.

The traps he had set up in the precinct—it was becoming unclear if he had done it to keep his people in, or Umbrella out. The lines of loyalty blurred like hypnotic swirl art, allies and enemies were one and the same.

Unaffected by the sudden outburst, Billy edged toward his pitiful, cowering form. The way Irons had flared made Rebecca flinch, but he could tell anger erected Billy.

Irons had almost forgotten he had spectators. Resurfacing from the whirlpool of his dark musings, he lifted his chin and met a set of eyes that seemed to blaze like blue fire. The ghost of Billy Coen was standing before him, and for a moment, he thought he too was a ghost. It was only when he noticed the Bravo medic that he understood he was still very much rooted to his own body, just detached from his mind. "Wasn't it brilliant?" he sneered through clenched teeth.

Billy's lips twisted into a smug grin. "Would have been if you'd won."

The truth slapped his cheek and left behind red heat, rising to consume his entire face. Anger surged through him and guided his rifle upward. Two shots were fired in quick successions, but Billy was too quick, already moving, lunging to the side, pushing Rebecca with him.

The sudden impact of his body colliding with hers won a yelp from her open mouth until they both hit the floor, weapons sliding out of their hands from the rough landing. Irons wasn't sure if they had hit the ground first, or the two ceiling lamps at their heels, the circuits sparking like fading fireworks. The room grew a few shades darker, and he could feel his face distorting wickedly in the shadows as he picked himself up and directed his rifle at his fallen preys.

Even defenseless, Billy's eyes flashed with stubborn resolve as he spread out an arm, shielding Rebecca behind him. He ground his teeth and got on one knee as Irons calmly moved closer and closer. They were trapped

"You know…there is no escape from Raccoon. You're just wasting your time," Irons preached, so softly that even his voice was unrecognizable to himself.

Rebecca crawled up and pushed Billy's arm out of her way, her face defiantly raised against the muzzle of the rifle.

"Get back!" Billy tried to grab her arm but she pushed his hand aside again.

"Thanks to you and your affiliation with Umbrella. They have a tendency to only take, not give. Ironic for a pharmaceutical company, don't you think?" she spoke strongly at first, but gradually, her tone diminished, its purpose to reason.

_He _was the one with a weapon in his hands, yet, he felt more threatened than secure. Words clashed against firearm and came out the victor as he felt knots of tension tying in the pit of his stomach. Rebecca seemed to have seen right through him, read his thoughts better than he could understand them. Wesker had selected the S.T.A.R.S. members well.

He didn't reply, already knowing that she was aware of his answer. Umbrella had only robbed, and he had been the company's accomplice all along, except he reaped nothing from their gain. Maybe it was time he started to redeem himself for his mistakes. It was a little too late, but still better than never. His golden chance was right before him, and before he could reconsider, he lowered the Ruger 10/22. The tiny bit of conscience left in him had decided that it would return what it had taken from Billy Coen—his life. As for Rebecca, he felt powerless to extinguish her zesty morale, and perhaps, she had exactly what it was going to take to exact his revenge on Umbrella.

"Go. There's nothing left for you here," Irons admitted and sauntered toward the door. He turned to look at the duo one last time before he made his exit, and felt an equal amount of content and disgust at the same time. He fled before the latter could take over. He honestly did not know if he could be this generous again, but for now, he relished in the thought that his players were back in the game, and if they won, he too would be a winner.

* * *

A/N: Hey all! First, I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I was working on another story (Origami Heart), got swamped with schoolwork, and was helping out a friend so all that took up a lot of time. I think this is the last time we're going to come back to the police station! I think they've made enough stops at the precinct, so onward with the story. For some reason, I felt like I needed to include Irons again since he played a part with the manipulation in the earlier chapters. In Perry's novel, I believe Irons was planning on running for mayor for Raccoon, so I was playing on that idea. I made him a bit merciful here, not sure if this will sit well with everyone though. I just felt that he might have snapped because he walks away with nothing after allying himself with Umbrella.

Thanks again as usual for reading! Please review and let me know your thoughts on this chapter. Thank you!


	19. Chapter 19

Light My Way

**Tuesday, September 29th, early morning**

Rebecca took a deep breath as she gazed nervously down the concrete steps that seemed like rungs of Hell. The subway was a convenient and quick method of transportation in the city, but Rebecca had always strayed far, far from using the trains. They were always packed, and the stations were always filled with questionable people whether it was in the morning, afternoon, and especially late at night. Most of the city's crimes occurred in the subway stations and a good amount of the defendants brought into the precinct were caught in the very location she was about to tread into. She always preferred to just take the local bus or walk to her destination. There were always other options for her, but not today—not when she considered herself to be pretty darn lucky that crumbling buildings hadn't caved in over her yet like they had over other unfortunate residents. She shuddered when she recalled their hands, both human and mutated ones in the mix, reaching out limply in desperation to be saved from the weight of death.

She quickly shook her head to clear the unwanted memories. She already had too many, and not single one of them was going to help with her efforts of trying to get out Raccoon.

_As soon as we get to the chopper, we can conduct a more thorough search for Jill, Sherry, and anyone else who's still alive, _she mentally reminded herself of the plan, over and over again as if it were some ancient incantation that could magically bring her the luck she needed. So far, she had none. "Well, here we are. We should be able to get to Fox Street if we head in the uptown direction."

Billy nodded and took the first tentative step that led into the darkness, already deciding that he would lead. Rebecca, with wet leather clinging to her body uncomfortably, sighed and followed, and once he sensed she was right behind him, they moved deeper into the train station with their fingers close to the triggers of their guns. The patter of rain grew softer and softer the further down they went, but she could still feel it—it was all around her, the humidity of the September shower making the air stuffier, the foul odor of rot thicker when it was supposed to cleanse, wash away the impurities of Raccoon and let it gleam when the sunrays peaked out.

The streets were like scenes from horror and post-apocalyptic films, and Rebecca doubted her descent was going to direct her into less gruesome sites. She could only hope that she wouldn't need her gun as much as she would if she were above ground right now, but as the same rank scent of decay that permeated from the bullet-induced pores of zombies began to fill her nostrils even before she reached the last stair, she knew that her prayer would not be granted.

Shaky, overhead fluorescent lights trembled above a sign that read: ENNERDALE STATION, before robbing them of the faint beam as quickly as they had received it. The broken lights continued to quake as if they were fixed in a never-ending seizure-the motion so rapid that it was beginning to feel like lightening wasn't satisfied with just striking on the ground level anymore. "Billy…" she called out faintly, and found herself edging closer to her partner. He kept blinking in and out of her sight, and even though she knew it was impossible for him to be devoured by the next flicker of darkness, a part of her still feared for his disappearance.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief when she heard his footsteps retracing toward her with light squeaks from the heels. Rebecca looked down on the platform ground and found blood cascading from the stairs behind her in rivulets, like a thin waterfall pooling over a small mountain. Blood was also smeared on the walls, and crimson imprints of hands faded into pink streaks as they dragged along the length of the station's entrance. The entire image reminded her of an artwork that could be found in a child's drawing book—something as simple as random lines, yet bizarre when they intersected one another in an angry vortex.

Billy appeared before her and held out his hand. "Watch your step, princess. Your royal carriage awaits you beyond the turnstiles," he said grimly.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at the cheesy comment, but found that the playful nature of it did ease some of her tension. She accepted his hand before he guided her down the last stair and toward the turnstiles, and realized just how comforting his warm and hard palm felt over her cold, trembling fingers. He must have sensed her uneasiness, for the pressure around her fingers increased.

And she didn't object to it, not at all.

"It's clear, but I haven't checked that train, so be on your guard," he instructed, and nodded toward the stationed train beyond the turnstile.

He let go of her hand as something caught his eye. Rebecca's eyes followed his form as he sauntered toward a slumped body nestled in the far corner of the station, beside the turnstiles. One look at the dead man's head instantly made her turn away and press her lips together to suppress a wave of nausea. His entire body was drenched with blood, the substance leaking from the schism that parted his face as each half slowly began to detatch from each other. She counted to ten in her mind and took a deep breath before turning to Billy again. He retrieved something from the corpse's pocket and jogged back to her. "Not a pretty sight, I know, but we could use this," he said, producing a large flashlight. "Light My Way…" he muttered as he examined the object.

"That's the name of a local electrical company. I guess he was an electrician…" Rebecca answered.

"Too bad we don't have him on our side right now."

A great beam from the flashlight sliced through the darkness ahead, and in its glow, Rebecca could see that the train was out of power. The doors were open, inviting them into the emptiness and blackness of each compartment. Billy moved on ahead first, vaulting over the turnstile while she took her time and ducked beneath the bar to crawl under it. She had seen kids do what they'd done to dodge fares, and never could have imagined that she and Billy would be mimicking them tonight for completely different reasons.

"Uptown…that way," she said and pointed to the left. "The school you're talking about is on Fox Street, which should only be one stop from here."

"Since all the trains are down, I'm assuming we're going to be walking."

Rebecca nodded. "But it shouldn't be long at all…just be careful to not step on the third rail. That's where the current flows and-"

Billy managed a grin. "Yeah, I hear ya. We don't wanna be fried yet."

"Right. Well, I guess I'll lead this time since I'm sure I'm a bit more familiar with these tunnels than you are."

"You take these trains a lot?"

"Hardly, but I do know how they run," she replied, walking toward the end of the platform only to discover that that the train was not parked in its standard order. The length of the train extended much further back than it was supposed to, leaving no space between the edge of the platform and the tracks they were supposed to be walking upon. She felt her heart sink when she considered the only other alternative they had. "It doesn't look like we're going to be able to squeeze through, which means…"

"We're just going to have to go into one of the cars and make our way down the train," Billy finished darkly. She could tell he was as apprehensive about that idea as she was. Who knew what was lurking throughout the two compartments they needed to pass?

He shone the flashlight into the empty compartment beside him, illuminating the shadows that grew thicker, finally into tangible entities. Bodies, all of them equally brutalized, strung along the two horizontal rows of seats like lifeless and creepy rag dolls in an abandoned attic. Rebecca tried to ease her way into the compartment, but Billy held her back with the hand that held the flashlight, the other one guiding the gun throughout the rather narrow space. When he though it to be safe, he stepped aside and let her enter.

"God…" Rebecca whispered, the rest of her statement fading with her breath.

"Just like old times, huh?"

She let out a bitter laugh, immediately catching on to what he was referring to. It had been raining that night too when she first met him, much stronger than it was tonight, and he had been staring her down like he was right now, his eyes ablaze with _something _she couldn't discern, but it was there, whatever it was. The bulb of light emanating from his hand seemed to envelope the outline of his body in an unearthly glow, like he was a ghost or a solid memory born from her desperation of wanting to see him again after he had left her in Arklay. Cold raindrops trickled down her face, down her bangs, and slid down her forearm onto his when she felt compelled to take his hand. Just feeling his sticky and rough palm managed to make her smile and her heart beat a little quicker. Such a strange, yet natural sentiment amidst the dreadful atmosphere.

"Rebecca…"

She saw him swallow a visible lump in his throat as his determined features relaxed, like all the pent-up fear, anger, and frustration had just escaped with his soft gasp. He looked like he wanted to say more than just her name, but the words would not gather on his lips, and she wasn't sure what she wanted to hear from him. Squeezing his hand once, she broke away from his gaze and wiggled the flashlight out of his clutch. "I said I was going to lead, remember?"

Billy chuckled and shook his head, as if he were trying to purge some silly thoughts. "All right, honey. Light my way."

"Very funny." She shot him a grin before aiming the flashlight ahead, the heat radiating from the shaft as warm as her cheeks. There was a door that connected the compartments, and much to her relief, it was unlocked. Sliding it aside, she entered the next compartment and let the light leak into the narrow darkness. Same as the previous car—more bodies on the seats, blood stretching like long, skeletal fingers, not a breathing soul in sight. Behind her, heavier footsteps made the broken glass crunch angrily beneath boots. Billy's movements were solid, concise, and her trembling heart and body took comfort against his pillar-like stature.

"Let's hope they're really dead," he whispered.

Just as he spoke, her ears picked up erratic footsteps, and the crinkling of glass continued to sound even though she and Billy ceased their strolls. She spun around the same time as her partner, just in time to release a bullet toward a quivering corpse attempting to rise from the seat.

"Nice shot," Billy complimented, his expression turning grim as he aimed for two more moving shadows in the background. "Light."

"Got it." Rebecca raised the flashlight. The beam caused the two zombies to stagger back and shield their faces with emaciated arms and hands. "Now!"

"You don't need to tell me twice," Billy spoke as he fired two clean shots, one for each head. The bodies slumped to the ground with noxious substances spilling from their gaping mouths after coarse moans that weaved into a louder chorus. The beam shifted left and right, catching more pairs of wizened hands and feet animating; they were struggling to stand, to nourish their wasted bodies. "Go!" he instructed and nudged her back with his shoulder. "We're going to run low on ammo if we take them all on."

"Roger." Rebecca's heart did a flip-flop when she turned the light into the direction of the next compartment door. She ran down the length of the car with Billy's heavier steps right beside hers. The darkness behind them stretched, as if it were trying to elongate the distance to their destination point. The groans did not dissipate the closer she was heading toward the door. In fact, they only grew in volume; each footstep only seemed to be awakening the temporary slumber of the undead. "Ahh!" Rebecca suddenly cried out when something thin, hard, and cold wrapped around her ankle. She felt her body propelling into a black air when the flashlight fell from her grasp as her fingers scrambled to latch on to anything to save herself from falling. She readied her palms to brake her drop, but a rough force shot up from beneath her right underarm and the obscurity ahead was again banished by the fiery yellow glow that had found its way into Billy's hand. She heard the sound of bones snapping beneath boots, thereby freeing her ankle.

"Thanks," she said between wheezes, and was on her feet again, scrambling for the door that was only an arm's length away now. Billy beat her to it, extending his longer arm for the handle—and sliding it aside, pushed her into the next compartment first. "Let's hope they're not smart enough open doors," she replied. Stopping, she conducted a full sweep of the car with her gun, and when nothing moved, she continued down the narrow path with the same speed as earlier, not wanting to be sandwiched between both cars of filled with the death-walkers.

Stagnant wind began to fill the car, and she could smell the same stale scent of death mixed with rain. She turned her body toward the direction the draft was coming from—and let out an excited gasp when she saw a broken window at the far end of the car, the last car of the train. "Billy! That way," she whispered, nudging him toward what she was looking at.

He shared her same enthusiasm with a determined nod and placed the flashlight back in her hand. "What are we waiting for?"

"Let's go—"Her command fell shot, her leg suddenly stiffened before prickles of pressure tightened around her injury; apparently, she had overestimated its recovery.

Detecting the strain in her voice, Billy grabbed her shoulder, dipping his head against her arched back. "Rebecca, you all right?"

She wrapped her fingers tightly around her injured leg and squeezed her eyes shut, praying hard for the pain to pass. Billy's voice when in and out of her ears, settling and vanishing from her mind. She clutched her leg harder, as if her fist could crush the twinge to a pulp. He continued to speak, but it was not the words she acknowledged, it was the gunshots that ricocheted off the walls, glass, and floor. They weren't alone; there were virus-carriers here with them. Drawing strength from that realization, she straightened her back and began limping forward, letting the column of light guide her. Each attempt to make her legs move faster elicited a cry from her lips, which disappeared into the croon of surrendering groans. Her heart momentarily skipped a beat when the dark mass before her began to rise like undulating waves, and the more quickly she found herself stepping backward, the more she felt like it was only going to be a matter of seconds before she and Billy were going to be devoured by the approaching current.

She heard him grunt beneath his breath and then the sound of a weapon sliding out of his holster.

"Stand back!" he yelled, the urgency in his tone finally snapping her out of her trance.

He stepped forward and pushed her back with his shoulder before steadying the shotgun in his hands, firing along the streak of light stemming from her wobbling fingers. Ample chunks of muscles and tissues broke into the air, reminding her of a nasty food fight she had been caught up in when she was in middle school, everything from the colors and textures of the bodily fragments to the sickening sounding _plops _they made as they dropped to the ground like an army of slugs. "I'm almost out of ammo for this gun," he reported, staggering backward to crane his neck, narrowly missing an angry swipe from a headless corpse attempting to make its last stand before plummeting to the floor with its other companions.

"Not good…" Rebecca moaned. She felt beads of sweat gathering at the edges of her head and her entire back as an unsettling mixture of warmth and coolness enveloped her. Now needing two hands to stifle the pain in her leg, the light around them began to waver. As much as she wanted to lead, she was in no position to, and was glad that Billy took the flashlight from her after securing the shotgun back into his holster.

"We-"

A loud _bang _from behind startled them both, causing them to turn toward the door they had just come through. The entire frame shook as if the ceilings were about to crumble, but she knew that wasn't the case when she spotted rotting fingernails planted upon disfigured, green fingers poking through the narrow opening of the sliding door.

A long streak of blue blurred before her, a solid _thud _echoing in the wake of the movement. The force that was striking against the door abated, the fingers disappearing from the gap, but she knew the monsters on the other side would be up in no time again.

"Come on!" Billy encouraged, giving his foot a shake before looping one of her arms around his neck, and then she was moving, well, more like sliding against his sturdy body as he practically dragged her across the rough-smooth ground. The pounding behind them returned, this time louder and more violent like there was a greater might, accumulated from the numbers, behind the silver barrier. She didn't know which one was going to burst first—the door or her thundering heart. She still had some ammo left, but it was nowhere enough to take on all of their pursuers.

The window—they were almost there, and that propelled her to ease Billy's burden. With tremendous effort, she took small and quick steps, four of her strides matching one of Billy's, but she was still flooded with a great sense of pride and achievement that her labor was paying off.

"Don't strain yourself," she heard him say, but the concern in his tone hardly registered over the excitement of realizing that they were going to be out of the train probably within the next twenty seconds. Pausing before the broken windows, her mind shuffled through ideas of how to climb out without further damaging her injury. Plus, she had to worry about cutting herself from the razor-sharp glass at the borders of the window that gleamed like menacing fangs. God, it was becoming increasingly difficult to think with the persistent banging at the other end of the train, and though she knew she'd be wasting that extra two seconds she desperately needed, she couldn't help but look at the sliding door—

-and to her horror, she heard the door glide smoothly to the side before she saw the _legion_ of zombies shuffling through the constricted space in a messy single file.

Billy clicked his tongue and shoved the flashlight into his pocket. "You can hit me for this later, princess," he remarked with haste but not humor. Before she could even question the intent behind his disconcerting words, she felt his strong arms wrap around her shins, hauling the rest of her body over his shoulder.

"Billy!" she protested, realizing what he was attempting to do. She called his name again, for fear that he hadn't heard her the first time when the hungry groans grew stronger, clearer, no longer muffled by the door in their way.

"Trust me on this," he answered sternly.

Legs of not their own scuffled down the path, the rhythm of the footsteps disjointed by the quickening of limbs from behind fighting to get their putrid hands on fresh, live meat. Rebecca counted the first seven heads within the sphere of illumination and threw her arms around Billy's neck, tightening her hold in preparation for his crazy dive. "Okay…" she whispered and turned her head away from the stream of undead. The moment her eyes closed, a tremendous rush of air struck her face and stole her surprised grasp. She felt like her heart had just taken a plunge into the pit of her stomach when her body tumbled under Billy's, a similar sensation she had experienced the last time she was on a roller coaster right before a steep drop. She embraced him as tightly as her muscles tensed, expecting the fall to hurt, a lot.

But it never came. No sudden, sharp cutting pain ripping anywhere in her body. Her palms were pressed against something hard, yet soft—skin. Hot, wet, sticky skin.

"Rebecca! You all right?"

She felt hands shaking her shoulders, rolling her over to a sitting. The world in her bleary vision was a tunnel of darkness until light beside her revealed that the void had an end and a beginning, and that reminded her what her focus should be. Glancing up, she saw Billy standing before her, one hand over a deep red line that horizontally zipped across his bicep, hiding a thinner streak across his chest . When he removed his hand, she gasped in shock at the messy red smudges his palm had created against his arm. "Billy, you're bleeding!" she cried, trying to push herself up from the ground. "The window…the glass must have cut you!"

He shook his head as if his wounds were of no consequence and tucked her arm over his neck, lifting her to her feet. "I'm fine, come on, we have to get going. I'll carry you," he said, and got on one knee. "You know what to do."

Rebecca looked back at the window they had just jumped out of and saw dark, opaque silhouettes through the glassless frame. _How did they get here so fast! _Either they had suddenly learned to run, or she was sure taking her sweet time. Deciding that the latter was more probable, she nodded and jumped on her partner's back without any objections.

"Catch," he ordered and tossed the flashlight upward into her hands. "Hold on, we'll be out of here soon. One stop away, you said?"

"One stop," she confirmed and raised her hands, letting the light slice through the darkness ahead. "But you're wounded…" She brushed her fingers gently over the slash on his bicep and felt guilt stab her pulsing chest. _If only my stupid leg hadn't cramped…_she thought, and suddenly wished she hadn't because the pain sprung up again, as if retaliating against her angry remark.

"It's nothing," he spoke with ease and stormed down the path of rails, his gait as resolute as his assurance.

Rebecca clamped her fingers over his shoulder and tried to fight the nagging, concerned voice in her head. Her leg ached and Billy's arm was now injured, yet, with threats hot on their heels, they could spare no moments for reprieve. The only thought that fed her vigor was knowing that they would be out of Raccoon soon—Billy's chopper was waiting for them at Fox Street, and once they take off into the air, they'd finally be able to scout for Jill and maybe even Sherry. They were close to leaving the city that was beyond saving; they were so close. The light illuminated nothing of danger ahead, but she took no comfort in that observation, for her ears picked up a certain lagging cadence coming from behind. Briefly shifting the beam toward the back, she lost an exhalation in her astonished gasp.

Billy seemed to have detected what she saw without evening turning around. "How far are they from us?'

"Thirty feet at most, but how on Earth did they jump through the window so quickly! How are they so mobile!" she sputtered, reaching for her handgun.

"Rebecca, keep the light focused on ahead."

Crap. She had completely forgotten that Billy needed light as much as she did. "What about—"

"Forget it, we're going to make a run for it. Fox Street, it's there, I can see the platform!" he shouted, now taking longer strides.

Rebecca rotated her torso, and within the radiance of the flashlight, witnessed for herself that they were indeed at Fox Street. She felt him change direction, moving over to the next tunnel to reach the platform. "Billy, be careful! The third-"

Before she even finished her sentence, he had already made a clean leap over the third rail and landed gracefully between the first and second. "I'll go first and help you up." He lowered himself on one knee again and swerved his arms around to the side to help her disembark. Try as she may, she could not avoid the sight of the red lines that cascaded down his arm in rivulets, working to diminish the true color of his skin. He caught her eye and shook his head, as if expressing, _Not now, _and gripped the edge of the platform, hauling himself over the ledge with one arm.

"Rebecca!" He leaned over and stretched out his left hand until it could extend no further.

She tossed the flashlight on to the ledge beside his foot before carefully stepping over the first rail. Her left palm smacked loudly against his as he wrapped his fingers over hers, and with his muscles bulging from his bicep, she knew he was preparing to accumulate his strength. "Hang on, I'll pull you up!" he exclaimed.

Those words triggered a memory, a special and warm one that she'd never forget. His black pupils—strained, but dilated, glazed with a certain desperateness that was fighting for release, reminded her of how he had pierced the same gaze into her tearstained vision the night she'd thought she was going to be swallowed by the gaping mouth of black beneath her. He had spoken the exact words to her when he found her in the lower level of the Arklay Facility, barely holding on to an uprooted pipe that was being dragged down by her weight. He had peered over the ledge, and the moment she saw his eyes betraying a sense of assurance and plea, like he actually cared whether she lived or not, her entire body felt rejuvenated, lending her enough energy to reach for his waiting hand. At the very moment their fingers intertwined, she knew, as if the realization had burned itself into her mind as an undeniable fact, that beneath the many layers of his cockiness and arrogance, was a heart as tough as steel.

"Rebecca, is your leg okay?"

"Y-yes," she replied, his question snapping her out of her musing. _Save it for another place and time_, her mind told her as she directed her attention back to his arm. She tiptoed, and with the utterance of a labored groan, tightened her own grasp around his hold as he began lifting her upward—and she was almost there until an unnatural gust of wind swept dirt and rocks into her eyes, the jagged shards cutting roughly against the rims, even against the shielding of her lids.

"What the hell!" she heard Billy yell, before the sound of what appeared to be wings flapping cleaved through the air, drowned out his voice. She blinked rapidly, letting the overflowing liquid find an escape from her stinging eyes that urgently tried to piece together vision for her, no matter how broken it may be. She saw yellow and black blurs, streaks, and then the two colors began convulsing like a spasm, as if they were attempting to merge into one shade. The quicker the colors blended, the stronger the wind around them seemed to grow, and though she still could not completely see what was going on, her mind had already made this connection for her. "Billy!" she shouted, hoping he could tell her what her eyes couldn't. To her horror, she felt his hand practically crushing her palm once before all the pressure around her hand vanished, sending her falling back down on her feet. "Billy!" she called again, waving her hand blindly, fingers catching air and the cool draft that was beginning to swirl around her, like it had the intention of entrapping her within the cyclone.

Sharp humming and hissing began to accompany the howls of the twister, growing in volume until they became a high shrill vibrating with the movements of the oncoming tides of angry wind. She felt her mouth open, but her plugged ears could not hear whatever noise left it. Her feet moved on their own accord, bringing her backward, away from the source of harm, but amidst her agitated state, they had forgotten the plane she was standing upon was not smooth. Completely oblivious to the rails that lined the track, she felt her ankles hook on to the edge of the first rail. Her upper body arched backward first before her knees buckled, breaking any foundation she could rely on to support her balance.

She felt her gun slide out of her hand, but in her hurry to rub away the discomfort that plagued her eyes, she disregarded her weapon until gunfire burst all around her, echoing off the hollow walls, making it sound as if there were a torrent of shots raining from the black heavens. With a final squeeze of her lids, the last trail of tears purged all impurities, clearing her a sight that instilled a hard, cold knot into her stomach. The flapping sounds had indeed come from wings, a pair on each of what looked like an overgrown wasp, half her size. Their cylindrical, viscid bodies dripped yellowish mucous in the directions they flew, unrestrained by silver wings that spread majestically like an expansive net weaving through sea, trying to snatch whatever was in their paths. What used to be legs seemed to have twisted into screwdriver-like shapes, thin and pointy and menacing needles elongating from rolls of pink, fleshy membranes that appeared to be…wounded?

She compared the appendage her eyes were set on to another, and realized that it was indeed injured. The black holes that littered about the leg were not part of the wasps' mutated genetic makeup; instead, she surmised that they could have only been formed from bullets that had strategically been aimed at the weak spots. Orange specs spit from the dim platform, surging through the air like collapsed fireworks, reminding her that Billy was in trouble and she needed to get herself together. Her tired arms retrieved the gun by her side, and though her disturbed eyes produced poorer aim, she nonetheless found comfort in hearing her own shots ringing against Billy's. She aimed for the bigger target—the annoying, widespread wings, and as each bullet collided with the web-like patterns, the wind around her began to grow fainter until the silence and stillness she had once feared and taken granted for, returned.

"Billy! You all right?" She wished she could see him, but there was something blinding, something as piercing as sunrays in an open desert space, spraying at her from the left.

Rebecca turned to the source of the light, and for a moment, felt like she was standing right before the sun despite how impossible that was. The glow, the heat emanating from the enormous halo of luminance bathed her in a comforting embrace for a few brief moments before it was stolen away by an ear-splitting screech produced by the shaking rails her body rested upon.

"Rebecca! Look out!"

The alarm in his voice told her that whatever was responsible for the almost unnatural radiance was something dangerous, and it was coming right for her, right from the tunnel on her left. _A train!_

It didn't…no, it couldn't possibly be an option. She had seen, had walked through the other defunct train. All power had been lost save for the third rail, but that was not enough to run a train.

And then it hit her-she was no longer on the same track. They had crossed to the opposite one to reach the Fox Street station. Whatever law of physics obeyed by the other track did not apply here.

"Rebecca! Move! NOW!"

She heard him scream the same time the front of the train began to materialize in her focus, the border of the headlights gaining their own presence behind the blast of shine that bounced off ridges of steel plates. The few times that she had taken the train in Raccoon had taught her that the steady, fast-paced speed this train was moving was only going to give her about fifteen seconds at most before she'd become a memory along with the city. Branding Billy's horrified face over the ledge into her mind helped her resist the fear that sank over her body like the fallen masses of ruins outside. Her limbs disapproved of the movements she forced upon them to perform, striking back against her with bruising torment that was only overcome by her determination to fight for her life and win—against the hidden doom train, against the swarm of zombies that had found their way to their preys, their lanky, shriveled legs bouncing with upbeat rhythm as they lilted forward with stretching, welcoming arms.

From the corner of her eyes, she caught a thin flash of a blue, transparent sheet rise behind her, tendrils of a lighter blue snaking around the bodies that attempted to cross the forbidden third rail. There was a soft cackle, and then the nauseating scent of burnt flesh found its way up her nostrils, reflexively causing her throat to uncomfortably swallow a spate of bile. The heaviness and speed of the footsteps did not abate. Despite being struck by a current that could kill a regular human, the swarm was not impeded by it, and with dislocated arms and fingers, continued toward their prize, oblivious to any harm that had just been inflicted.

Seeing the undead move faster than her awakened a challenge she felt necessary to take on. Her desperate limps hurried into a jog before it evolved into a full sprint, pushing her forward just in time to dodge six fetid, sinewy hands that would have clawed her neck. She threw her left arm ahead, and the feeling of strong human flesh against her own had never felt so good.

"Gotcha!"

In a powerful explosion of wild sunburst and shattering crescendo of crackles, Rebecca felt herself suspended in hot air, in a state that neither felt like dream nor reality until she felt a pair of strong arms envelope her protectively. Her heart had sprung so high that she felt it could have leaped out of her mouth with her breathless scream. It frightened her for a second or two to open her exhausted eyes, frightened her to think that what she'd see would not be as consoling as the tender presence around her body that soothed her enough to make her eyes sting with fresh, bubbly tears. "You're okay," a voice whispered, sounding louder in her ears than the train that was still roaring in its full rage, stampeding over the mindless drones and cutting off their dying moans as quickly as they came.

And that was enough for her to know she was safe, and in good hands, literally. She ingested the tightness in her throat, and felt her heart wash down with it, slowly settling back to its proper area.

Trusting the words from a man who meant as much to her as her own life, Rebecca slowly allowed her lids to unfold—and even though the first thing she saw was the floppy body of the wasp she had helped take down oozing with green and yellow slime, she couldn't throttle the smile that was beginning to form on her lips. It was such a queer reaction to nearly losing her life, but she could find no other means to express her relief that was hardly presentable with just words alone. She hugged Billy's neck tightly for a few seconds longer before pushing herself back, sitting on her heels as she watched an array of emotions transpire in the depths of his swollen pupils.

"Rebecca…" he started, nearly choking at the release of her name.

Her curved lips thinned into a straight line upon noticing the tormented affliction flicker with his blinks, like he was conflicted, confused, trying to control something that did not wish to be grounded.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," he relented at last, and drew her body against his, eyes closing upon his finished statement.

"I'll try not to," she returned, falling against his shoulder, her body and mind so tired that she could fall asleep right now-in the midst of a haunted train station-if she had the option to. The only thing that signaled passing of time was the ceasing of the train's chugging. A haunting tranquility settled over them like a protective barrier, allowing them some reprieve that was long overdue, but Rebecca didn't know when the next surprise was going pop out. She certainly had not anticipated that they would be ambushed by mutated wasps that were half her size, nor had she expected to be saved just a hair away from being hit by a runaway train. "We should be on our way. Our ride out of the city is waiting for us," she said, reluctantly pulling back again after being reminded precisely why they should get going. She held Billy's gaze for a few moments longer, and then turned away in embarrassment when it became too intense. It seemed he didn't know what to say either, yet, she could almost swear she understood everything.

Rebecca's eyes shifted toward the stairs on the left that would lead them one step closer to freedom. A chilly draft from the dwindling rain spiraled gently around her, emphasizing that there was still life outside the station that needed to be faced. "Finally, it's going to be over," she announced, finding slight difficulty in believing what she told him. It felt too good to be true, too easy of an escape, but Billy had said the stolen helicopter was waiting for them at the school.

And since she hadn't seen or heard any flying 'copters in the air, they were almost promised a ticket out of Raccoon.

"Thanks, Billy. If it weren't for you…I wouldn't even be here," she said, her tone carrying a pitiful note. She sensed him looking at her side profile in awe, determination blooming in his dark eyes as if she had just imposed on him a role he felt obligated to accept.

"Don't mention it. We're partners, right? Besides, every princess needs a good knight." He surprised her with a laugh at the end of his flirtatious remark. She simply shook her head and released a small giggle. Somehow, nothing could claim the witty charm she had come to secretly adore, not even imminent danger.

Her tiny grin faded when she saw his drain with the color in his face. His eyes, wells of heartfelt emotions just moments ago, were now vapid as they locked upon something attentively behind her. She traced his line of sight, and turning around, found a pulpy pool of crimson and green where she had been earlier—the tracks. Bones, flesh turned inside out, and other body parts that were no longer identifiable lurked beneath the thin mass of murky and vile liquid. Lingering for a second longer on the view made her stomach churn violently, and she was almost certain that her vomit wasn't going to look much better than what she was seeing now.

"Billy, come on," she whispered, picking up the flashlight by his feet, urging him with a light shove of her elbow.

He didn't move, not even when she shook his shoulder for attention. He seemed almost possessed, trapped under an unbreakable spell that knew no mercy. A cold wind from the world above enveloped her again, cooling more than just her exposed skin; the breeze seemed to have seeped into her pores, chilling her very core. Something didn't feel right. _Billy…_

What was going on? What was making him fixated on the gruesome mess? Granted it _was _revolting, but they had seen worse, far worse. What was so different about this scene?

And then something clicked in her mind: another memory from Arklay. After she had found his unconscious body by the water pool, he had also become immersed in his own secluded world when his eyes caught a pile of aged skeletons mounted in a corner. She wasn't able to make any connections then, and it bothered her to realize that she still didn't know what had him so entranced now. True, she could always ask, but she already knew that she'd only win the same response he had given her in Arklay.

"Let's go," he finally said, and squeezed his eyes shut before turning away, as if he were trying to push away painful memories. His voice had taken on a hard edge, and Rebecca promised herself that once they were on safer grounds, she'd ask him again what he had tried to dodge. This time, she was going to be persistent.

He stood up first and supported the majority of her weight by easing her right arm over his shoulders. She wasn't sure when the sharp pain had allayed into a dull sore, but was grateful for the improvement. "Thank you," she breathed out, feeling awful for using him as a crutch, and even worse when her fingers intertwined with the blood on his arm that she had been partially responsible for drawing.

He didn't respond, just focused all his concentration on reaching for the open space above the short set of stairs. Even though they would just end up on the other side of Raccoon City, Rebecca felt like she was ascending into a hidden tomb, where a handsome prize was awaiting her. In a way, her little analogy wasn't too far from the truth. When she felt light droplets of rain hit her cheeks and no more need for the flashlight that was put to shame by the expansive lampposts that lined Fox Street, a deluge of relief, one of the best sensations she had ever experienced, saturated her from head to toe. All the Hell they had gone through felt _almost _worth it for this invigorating high so powerful that she felt like she could almost live off it for weeks.

Billy sensed her excitement, too, and picked up his speed to match her quick, short breaths. Her chest constricted painfully as she limped-ran with Billy's blood traveling so far down her gloved forearm that it was beginning to soak her fingers. She could taste beads of rain mixed with even bigger beads of sweat upon her dehydrated lips, feel her heart vibrating like a beast charging against a rickety cage, and yet, all her struggles materialized into a burst of pure energy she desperately needed to borrow.

_This is it. We're almost out of here!_

"This way," she muttered, immediately losing the words to her ragged breaths, but she knew Billy understood as he turned the corner with her.

Knowing that the school was on the right of the upcoming intersection, her heart did a somersault as her body jerked in the direction of their key to freedom—

-and then a horribly familiar shadow flipped over her and Billy, landing before them with an extended silhouette that depleted every ounce of energy from her body's powerhouse when it stepped into the halo of a lonesome lamppost. The light illuminated every grotesque inch of the creature and highlighted the sleek length of a rocket launcher grafted into its left arm. This nefarious S.T.A.R.S. killer that should have been nothing more than an indelible memory was alive and breathing, standing right between them and the charred, fragmented outline of their helicopter.

* * *

A/N: Did you really think they were going to make it out of Raccoon that easily? ^_^;; We still have a long way to go! First, I apologize for the long delay in posting this chapter. I've been super busy with school (writing papers and reading dense stuff, plus graduation coming up in May), and as a result, I'm afraid the next chapter won't be up any time soon either, though I already know what I'm going to write. I'll still be sticking around the site to read, but writing will just take awhile.

Yeah…so I borrowed the idea in this chapter from the subway scenario in Umbrella Chronicles and the Clocktower scene in Nemesis. Merged the two together and formed this. There will be overlaps with RE Outbreaks in the future chapters, along with another major 'borrowed' idea, but I don't want to give anything away so I'm gonna stop talking now.

As always, thank you for taking your time to read my chapters! All comments and reviews are appreciated!

Until the next chapter!


	20. Chapter 20

Heart and Fire

**Tuesday, September 29th, early morning**

Billy faltered before Nemesis for only a few seconds as his mind tried to summon a word to describe how cheated he felt. There had a been a mixture of good and bad events since the moment he flew into Raccoon City, but no amount of fortunes or misfortunes could make up for, or amount to what had just happened. He felt his heart dive into the same unfathomable depth it had entered when he discovered he was to be sentenced to death—but in retrospect, that was all right because it was only his life on the line. Now, with two lives on the line, his heart plunged twice as fast, into a hole that felt twice as deep.

Still, that painful sensation did nothing to singe his morale. Spirit burning stronger than ever, more alive than the flames eating away at their escape, he thrust himself forward and fired his shotgun. Between the roar of the monster and the sound of the firepower being absorbed by its skin of hardened, burnt flesh, he heard Rebecca shuffling behind him. He didn't risk turning around to check what she was doing, only hoped that she was taking this opportunity to seek cover, but he should have known by now that she was a stubborn girl—persistent and determined just like the rest of the disbanded S.T.A.R.S. team had been.

In a matter of seconds, she had moved from being behind him to behind Nemesis.

"Hey!" she screamed, stomping her foot, catching the monster's attention as it whirled around. "It's me you want, right? You want S.T.A.R.S., then come and get some!"

"Rebecca! What the hell are you doing?" Billy yelled. He watched in disbelief as she ran toward a hydraulic truck parked beside the fried 'copter, and soon learned her plan when his eyes found the crane that secured a load of bricks. Billy estimated at least fifty of them in the vertical stack. _Smart cookie. _

He took off after her, stopping only when Nemesis did to reel its arm back. Digital bleeps echoed throughout the empty streets with the cackles of fire. A cold shudder pulsing inside his warm body revitalized him, particularly his eyes that seemed to have produced tunnel vision for him. His sight was impaired for a brief moment, the peripheral views vanishing as his lines of sight merged, bringing only Rebecca and Nemesis's rocket launcher into the core of his illusion that felt too real. Believing that the foreseen accident would occur if he were to blink, his eyes burned as he dashed against the whipping wind that he felt like he was in a race with. The bleeps continued to echo, quicker and louder now, driving up the consequences if he were unable to save her in time.

Rebecca turned around, gasping into his chest when he pushed his weight into her, propelling both of them to the hard, wet ground just as the missile projected over their heads. She hit the ground first and looked up at his face with bleary, questioning eyes, but her answer came in the explosion that obliterated a grocery store in front of them.

"He swept his hand until he found her wrist."Come on," he said, helping her up before guiding her toward the hydraulic truck.

"Billy!" Rebecca wheezed as she ran with him, the smoke from the burning helicopter suffocating her voice. "Y-you have to get out of there. That thing is after me, not you!"

His hand moved from her wrist toward her palm. Seizing it tightly in his grasp, he tried to answer her in his most stable voice, but with the sound of Nemesis charging toward them from behind in the ring of inferno, he found it difficult to control his anger. Despite her best intentions, what she insinuated implied that he was a coward. In the short time he had spent in the Marines, he had never once abandoned a comrade whether it was in training or actual combat, and to think she could even _consider _he would desert the person he had come a long way to care for…

Well, he didn't want to think about it. Right now, he needed to focus on finding a way to save both their asses. "You must be kidding me, Rebecca. There is NO way I'm leaving you alone with that monster. No arguments!"

He heard her suppress an emotional whimper before cleverly trying to hide it over loud pants. Seeing an eighteen-year-old medic putting others before herself and still trying to persevere in the face of adversity made his chest ache. He had never seen such a genuine display of camaraderie, had never felt something that both stung and comforted his abused faith. He just hoped they could both live long enough for him to sort out this strange, but welcoming sensation.

"See if you can lower that load from the crane. I'll distract the bastard." With hesitance, he released her hand and ran in the opposite direction of the truck. To his relief, Nemesis's tentacles thrashed in his direction, creating a road of ruin in its path as the fleshy, taut ropes swiped at anything in the way.

Billy ducked behind a lamppost, narrowly missing an obliterated building door and window thrown toward him. Nemesis growled, the snarl resonating like a furious howl of a dying beast. He fired twice at the tentacle reaching for him on his right and side-rolled over as the left tentacle caught the pillar of the lamppost, rending the pole from the ground. Billy wasted no time in recovering, was already on his feet again just as the pole was plucked from the earth. He moved toward the ruined 'copter and prepared to dodge the rod that would be thrown his way in just a matter of seconds. The tentacle swung backward, accumulating force before flicking the bar ahead with grace, as if it were a shuriken.

He dived forward, hitting the ground first with his injured arm, further tearing the broken skin. Grunting in pain, he smothered his free hand over the wound, and when he pulled it away to grab his shotgun, he could barely see the color of flesh beneath his crimson-laden palm.

"Billy! Are you all right!" he heard Rebecca scream when she poked her head through the window of the truck.

He looked up and saw a grim, indecisive expression on her face, as if she wasn't sure whether or not she should stay where she was, or move toward him. He weakly lifted a hand and gave her a thumbs-up before waving his fingers, signaling that he was fine and she should continue operating the crane. With a doubtful nod, she disappeared back into the truck. Moments later, he heard gears moving, the sound of machinery warming up and breathing to life. The radio in his pocket crackled, static filling his ears before Rebecca's voice emerged. "Billy, I'm moving the truck forward. See if you can get Nemesis under the load!"

"That was the plan," he grunted, stabilizing himself on his sore legs. The truck drove at an awkward and slow speed, occasionally pausing before lurching forward again. Finally, it rested approximately twenty feet away from him, the crane gently rising with his renewed hope. When the crane finally remained fixed as well, Billy sprinted toward the truck, and just as he had expected, Nemesis lunged after him, pumping its bulky arms to collect speed.

The impromptu plan reminded him of the little 'crane games' in arcades, where the claw had to be dropped at precisely the right time and angle over the target. He had never been good at those games. Lacking patience and having the preconceived notion that those games were just ways to cheat kid's money probably did not help either. Still, he hoped Rebecca was better at those games than he was. Technically speaking, the scenario in which the crane was fixed with the targets right beneath it should work in their favor, but he was still relieved that he was not on the other side of the truck. It wasn't because he was afraid of screwing up; rather, it was the penalties of his mistakes that he feared. They had only one chance to make this work.

Without much ammunition left, they really had no other options. His life was at stake in this game, but somehow, he did not mind this wager at all.

"Billy! Look out! Move to your left!"

Trusting her word, he obeyed her command without turning around. Shifting to the left, he caught the sight of the thick, purple tentacle curling around air on his right.

"Close call," he breathed out to himself. _So close to the truck, just a few more steps…_Billy practically leaped and rolled under the cargo of bricks, barely missing another thrashing tentacle that made the earth quake when it collided with the ground behind him, sending a heap of debris flying into the air. He remained on his knees and watched Nemesis intently, breathing with the deafening pulses of his heartbeats. _Come on! _he urged in his mind, waiting for the predator to advance forward—

-and then it came charging, with its head first like a bull on a rampage.

"Now, Rebecca!"

He heard a _click _and leaped to the side the same time Rebecca practically flew out of the truck. The sound of metal tearing before the cargo hit the ground with a tremendous _thud _vibrated in his ears, but it was Nemesis's howl that shook the core of his being, made every limb in his body weak until he saw Rebecca lying limply beside him. "Rebecca!" He held her shoulders, shaking her out of her dazed expression. To his relief, she seemed to have recovered before he even opened his mouth to ask if she was all right.

"I'm fine," she muttered, already pulling herself to a standing with his support. "Head for the school!" she urged, the strength in her voice returning until she inhaled a lungful of smoke.

Covering their faces with their hands, they ran toward the school situated behind their fallen 'copter. Billy only turned around once to make sure they were not being followed. He saw one of Nemesis's tentacles twitch slightly, attempting to slip out of the caved-in mess, but after a few seconds, it became flaccid and fell to the ground with its unmoving owner. Pointing his chin toward the school, he ran, not knowing what else to do, or where else to go.

* * *

Regan left the second to the last Umbrella lab he was ordered to set the explosives in. He had accomplished a taxing feat, and yet, he didn't feel that great rush of achievement he had thought he would. Instead, he was still unfulfilled, greedy, aching with the unwavering desire to find the two survivors he had seen earlier.

He faced the cold exterior of the police station and watched the faint raindrops mingle with blood as they trickled down the aged bricks. The building looked as if it were crying red tears, or bleeding—both seemed plausible given the situation. He enjoyed the sight, not finding it one bit disturbing that he was relishing in the chaos. He had grown used to it after 'serving' as Commander of the Dunell Marine Base, a role he only enjoyed playing because it gave him a purpose, a life ordinary people were deprived of. He was no commoner; at a certain point in his life, he had been lower than one, but now Regan found solace in the embracing arms of Spencer—his savior who understood his loss, gave him back what these people had taken away from him.

Regan eyed the piles of corpses, the destructors of mankind, and found himself smiling to the black heaven. Folding his hands behind his back and raising his head toward the sky, he mentally uttered a note of gratitude. The spilling of the virus might have been an accident, but it was a true blessing in eyes as well. These despicable beings finally understood the pain, confusion, and anger he hard harbored in his heart for the past four decades. They finally experienced losing ones they loved, thriving amongst those they feared, and wanting to take their own lives because salvation and hope were as far as the stars that were incapable of granting miracles.

Raccoon City wasn't enough. He wanted the world to fester the way Raccoon did. It was the only way to make Spencer's vision real—a new breed of beings governed under a lord who truly deserved that title. No one was going to stop Spencer's plans and expose Umbrella's true intentions, certainly not a rookie medic and a shadow that should have faded with the memories of that fateful day in Africa.

Ever since he had reviewed Coen's profile when he joined the Marines, Regan knew there was something difficult about him. It was rare that a person from an aristocratic background would devote himself to the service of defense. Something in his lavish life must have triggered him to leave all the wealth and his family behind, discard everything Regan had never known. Billy's eyes betrayed the just soul under his skin that was further brought to light through his selfless actions during training and combat. Billy was a man of few words, but his actions had spoken everything for him. Regan didn't know him well—just enough to realize that this man was in quest of saving the world that he wanted to annihilate, the world that deserved no mercy.

And that made him an enemy.

He only regretted not killing him sooner. Thanks to the intervention of the government in the incident that went down in Africa, Umbrella, under the guise of the Dunell Marine Base, had to pretend that there was a tribal warfare that needed to be quelled, and one of the men panicked and 'unintentionally' killed the villagers in an effort to hide the real reasons for the slaughter. Using Coen as the scapegoat helped shift the blame to the Marines, turning the public's eyes away from any evidence that could have been traced back to Umbrella.

But who would have thought that this man was capable of dodging death, not once, but thrice.

"Not for long, Coen. Not for long…" Regan slipped his right hand into the pocket of his trench coat and stroked the sleek, cold tube of the syringe with his thumb.

His dark thoughts disbanded when static blasted through the receiver in his left pocket. Plucking the device out, he greeted the Umbrella staff on the other end sharply, "Yes. One more lab to go."

"_Excellent work, Regan."_

"What's the status on our little project?"

"_Negative, sir. It's far too erratic and has difficulty obeying commands. The research team has given up on perfecting it, and it will simply be disposed."_

He gave his answer far too quickly, certainty rising in his voice. "No, I have a use for our failed experiment. Have a chopper bring it here. I want to see the outcome."

"_But sir…this B.O.W. cannot-"_

"Just do it," he cut in sternly. "Don't make me repeat myself."

There was hesitance on the other line, but Regan eventually got his wish. _"Yes sir. You'll be alerted once the chopper enters the premises of the city." _

He held on to the syringe tighter, a wicked smile spreading across his lips like spilt poison. "Perhaps I don't need this just yet."

* * *

"In here!" Rebecca motioned for Billy to enter a safe classroom on the first floor of the East Raccoon Elementary School. She was relieved that they hadn't run into any students—dead or undead. She didn't know if she could will herself to shoot children, no matter how inhuman they would become. Just thinking about it made her feel sick.

Billy conducted one more look throughout the hall before limping into the classroom. The entire school lost electricity, leaving the room dark, but the lampposts outside did an adequate job of shedding some light through the barred-up windows. The pools of blood beneath the windows and around the overturned chairs and desks glistened like a black oil spill, the true color showing only after being saturated on scattered sheets of white paper. He shut the door behind them and collapsed against a closet, smearing the wood crimson with his palm.

"Billy…" Rebecca said in a surprisingly soft voice, like she couldn't fathom that it had all come to this. "Have a seat. I'll patch you-" She paused upon realizing that her medkit was no longer attached around her waist. "I must have dropped my kit," she whispered, again, as if she were in disbelief.

"It's fine. I think I can manage a little longer. Just…need to catch my breath." The back of his head hit the closet before his eyes closed. Heavy breathing filled the room, and as Rebecca watched him with an aching wound in her chest, she couldn't stop her arms from reaching out to encircle his waist.

She hugged him in a protective manner, as if she were a parent trying to smother the pain from her child. "Why, Billy? Why would you put yourself through all this when you don't need to?" She knew it was his own decision to stick by her, but his sacrifices were hurting her, whether he knew it or not. "We could have both died back there, and even now, I don't know if that monster's dead! You shouldn't be near me, it's S.T.A.R.S. he wants, not you!"

He remained quiet, and she listened to his heart beating, noting that it was slowly returning to normal, matching the hammering in her head. She too had experienced great wounds, both physical and ones that were dealt to her heart, but seeing him suffer for her hurt more than any injuries on her body. She felt him loop an around her shoulders, blood staining the exposed skin on her back. They remained like this for awhile, she waiting for him to speak, and he offering nothing but his silent companionship. She expected him to yell at her, like he had done earlier, telling her, "There's no way I'm leaving you!" Honestly, she didn't want that, but would have gladly accepted that response over the encompassing stillness.

She looked up and was surprised to find his eyes glistening like distant morning stars. He was holding emotions back in those eyes, and from the far-off gaze he held, she understood that there was more on his mind than her and the event that had just transpired. _It's the same thing that's bothering him…what he's refusing to let me know. _She dared not ask him what was going through his mind and hoped instead that he would come to her when he was ready.

Rebecca slowly pulled herself away from him and turned her attention toward the rows of cubbies in the back of the classroom. She went through the names, one printed above each cubby, and thought about how the mini storage spaces would remain forever abandoned from here on in. It wasn't the distraction she was hoping for to ease her curiosity, but at least with her back turned to him, Billy had the privacy to compose himself as he saw fit.

"We have a truce."

He stated his commitment with such finality that she found it difficult to counter. Rebecca's insides constricted, her deepest fear their coils, but her lips curved into a rueful smile. Somehow, hearing those words made all the difference, but her spirit was still crushed. "So… now what? I dragged you into this mess, and now, we can't even get out."

He moved beside her, one hand clutching both his gun and his other arm. "There's gotta be another way. We'll figure it out. It can't get much worse than this, right?"

"That's for sure. Maybe Jill will find something, but even if she does, she can't get in touch with me." She touched her radio, wishing in her mind that it would just hiss to life right now. That would make her feel slightly better about the situation she was in.

"Hey, check this out."

The interest in his voice piqued hers as well. She followed his line of sight and gasped. "Sherry…"

The third to the last cubby belonged to a 'Sherry Birkin.' Rebecca turned to Billy and could tell he had the same thought. She nodded in agreement and ran toward the cubby. There was a jacket, a lunch box, two notebooks, and a folder—nothing unusual, but still, she hoped to find some type of clue that could be of some aid.

Billy frowned. "Is it the same Sherry?"

Rebecca searched the pockets of the jacket. Nothing. She handed the notebooks to Billy while she rummaged through the lunchbox. Two bags of chips and a folded sheet of paper tucked beneath it. Gently pulling it out, Rebecca smoothed out what appeared to be a letter. The author of the letter was clearly an adult, the handwriting cursive but messy. It looked similar to a doctor's note, but she could still make out each word.

"Listen to this," she began, frowning. "William Birkin, with each passing day, I am becoming more and more paranoid that Umbrella is after my research. I now share the same anxiety you have felt and are still experiencing. The Daylight project I have been conducting with Peter Jenkins is in its final stages, and I do not doubt the success of it once it is at its completion. With Daylight, we can finally secure our researches and bring Umbrella down. Along with this letter, I am sending you all the details I have gathered for Daylight so you may carry out further tests to ensure its effectiveness. Umbrella has eyes all over the labs, and quite possibly, even in our homes. Please keep this letter and the copy of my files in an inconspicuous location, where no one would think to look. Remember, as Jenkin says, there is no need for an Umbrella in the Daylight. Sincerely, Greg Mueller…" Rebecca trailed off, deep in thought as she folded the letter. "But this is definitely our Sherry."

Billy look perplexed as well. "What's this Daylight? More importantly, I thought Sherry's parents were working _for _Umbrella, but this letter clearly states that they're trying to bring Umbrella down. This doesn't make sense. Is there a date on that letter?"

Rebecca shook her head. "No, but whatever this Daylight is, it's extremely important, which is why Sherry's father stored everything with Sherry's school belongings. No one would ever suspect that—" She stopped and grabbed the notebooks in Billy's hand. Her fingers rapidly flipped through the pages, and just as she had suspected, one notebook contained a folded manila envelope. A childish drawing of a sun adorned the cover of the folder. Rebecca did not doubt that whatever she was holding was the key to Daylight.

Just as she was about to open the envelope, the sound of wooden boards creaking chased away the welcoming silence.

"What was that?" Rebecca hissed, stuffing the envelope and the letter into her pocket.

Billy held a finger toward his lips and they waited for the noise. Rebecca heard it again. It was coming from the halls outside, toward the entrance, where the stairs led to the second floor. Billy moved first, inching toward the door and stepping out carefully to avoid making any sound.

"Is everything—" She stopped in mid-sentence when she joined him in the hall. She felt her heart leap to her throat at the sight of the wooden barricade by the stairs breaking. Above her, a series of footsteps, like a quiet march of an army, paddled past where she was standing beneath, heading for the stairs. Weak moans and murmurs, higher in pitch than the ones she and Billy had been hearing, sang like a fading chorus. "The kids…" she whispered, noting the small hands and thin arms stretching through the gaps in the deteriorating blockade.

Billy moved backward upon realizing that they were not going to make it to the entrance in time to escape. "The panels are going to collapse any minute, we've gotta get out of here."

"The back exit," Rebecca cried, pulling his arm.

They turned at the same time and ran for the emergency exit at the end of the hall that thankfully had not been barred. Wood creaked and popped like firecrackers in flight, and without turning to look back, they both knew the obstruction had been overrun.

Rebecca clutched her Samurai Edge tighter, afraid it was going to slip from her quivering fingers. To have the virus infect innocent children was an unforgivable sin, one she could not even bear to witness. "I just hope Sherry's not in there with that mix," she called in between gasps.

"Same." Billy turned to his side and rammed his entire weight against the back door, bursting into the chilly night again, and san of smoke this time. As soon as Rebecca stepped out, he kicked the door closed, eyes roaming about their new environment.

They were in the school yard, facing Ema Street. The area was deserted with the exception of a basketball, a hoop, and a dumpster, which Rebecca was standing next to. "Billy! We can use this to seal the door!"

"Exactly my thought." He began pushing the dumpster toward the door. Luckily, it was only a few feet away, right by the exit they had just emerged from.

Rebecca trained her gun at the door until the dumpster hid it from view. Just as it was secured, the metal frame behind it shook. Hands slammed against it, over and over again, yearning to reach for what was beyond their grasp. Pain swelled in her chest, expanding like ripples of water. Being a kid herself, she had always had a soft spot for children. A grip on her shoulder shook her out of her thoughts.

"We better get out of here. Any ideas?"

"Yeah, we have to take care of our injuries first. Follow me," she whispered, turning to the road of darkness ahead.

"You're not bringing me to the hospital, are you? I think that's the last place I want to be right now."

She imagined a smile as he said that. Appreciating his attempt at a small but very truthful joke, she gave him a tiny grin and shook her head. "No, the hospital is on the other side of the city. I've got another place in mind."

* * *

A/N: First, sorry for the long wait! A lot went on, but I hope to update more consistently now. Thanks for sticking with this story. I absolutely loved each review you guys left! For those of you who have forgotten about Regan (I know, I haven't put him in any chapters for awhile ^^;;), here's a recap of the events happening:

Regan isn't an original character. He was mentioned briefly as the Commander of the Dunell Marine base. He was also the one who had Billy court-martialed and sentenced to death. No other information was given, so I decided to build his character for this story. In this story, he's a higher-up of Umbrella who is extremely loyal to Spencer and his vision because Spencer took him in when he was a child after his family was murdered. He operates as the Commander of the Dunell Base to gain influence and power in order to shield suspicious activities Umbrella may be carrying out from the public eye. I used the incident in Africa mentioned in RE0 to build upon RE5's mentioning of Umbrella's activities in Africa. Now that Raccoon is infected, Regan's purpose in the city is to record Nemesis's battle data, implant bombs in all the secret Umbrella labs within the city, and revive Nemesis with instructions sent from Umbrella (hey, I was wondering how the hell Nemesis kept coming back in RE3 ^^;). Hm…but he also has something up his sleeve in this chapter…won't give that away yet!

Daylight was taken from the Outbreak series, so if you haven't played Outbreak and don't want to be spoiled, try not to look it up yet. =) Greg Mueller and Peter Jenkins are minor characters in Outbreak, and I tied them with Birkin from RE2 since they were all paranoid about having their work stolen.

Hmm, that's about it for now. If you need any clarifications on anything else, please message me. =) I know it's hard to keep track of some stuff since this is Chapter 20. I'm even having a hard time remembering some old stuff, as well as what I want to put in for future chapters. Before writing the next chapter, I think I'm going to go back and do some small editing for all the previous chapters (just grammar stuff, no plot changes). FFN changed its formatting, and therefore, all the line breaks I had that signaled scene shifts are now gone. Have to go back and correct that.

To all the readers, thank you so much for your feedback and critiques, and a huge thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

What Words Can't Say

**Tuesday, September 29th, early morning**

Billy followed Rebecca until she stopped in front of J's Bar. He peeked through the untouched windows first. The bar was still lit inside, but there were no people. Like the school, most of the furniture was overturned. Broken glasses and plates littered the floor, stools rested on the floor far from the counter, but Billy was relieved to see that there weren't traces of blood or signs of infection. It seemed like the bar-goers had just left in a hurry.

"One of the many J's Bars in the city," she told him.

Billy raised a brow. They had only walked about three blocks down from East Raccoon Elementary. "I find it strange that it's situated so closely near two public schools."

"I know, but this joint is everywhere."

"Interesting. Too bad you couldn't give me a tour of Raccoon under better circumstances, huh?"

Billy eased the door open with his gun and took slow and cautious strides into the building. The wooden floorboards creaked under his weight, but other than that, the bar was silent. The interior was a lot bigger than he had pictured from his observation from the windows. The counter on the right ran along the length of the bar, turning in at the end. An assortment of drinks, almost all he was familiar with, lined the glass shelf behind it. Toward the back, there was a sleek and polished baby grand piano, the keys shining under a hanging, pewter candelabra that radiated a retro vibe.

"A bar, really now?"

Rebecca closed the door behind them and grinned, making her way to the glass shelf of drinks, dropping her weapons on the bar top. Billy straightened a chair and took a seat by a circular, wooden table and watched as she selectively went through the bottles. Index finger against her tilted chin, she scanned the variety with a purpose. Finally, her hand settled on a bottle of Moonshine. Plucking it, she proceeded to search beneath the bar for something else.

"What are you doing, Rebecca? Now's really not the time for a scavenger hunt."

"You'll see," she called back.

"And aren't you eighteen? You're not even allowed to drink so stop searching for cups, but if you _do _happen to find one, I can use something hard right about now."

She laughed, and when her head emerged again, he knew what she was planning on doing. She walked over to the table and dropped the contents on the top before slamming down the bottle with a smile.

"You don't have to worry about that. I don't drink."

Billy smirked. "Good, because you don't seem like the type who can handle it."

His grin widened when he saw Rebecca's dark eyebrows knit over her narrowing eyes. It was one of those times he wished he had a camera to capture her priceless expression.

"Oh, and just what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Coen?" she asked with mock disgust.

"Relax babe, it's a good thing."

All the tension in her face immediately faded, leaving her looking like her youthful and innocent self again. Though the light in the room was faint, he saw a blush rise to her cheeks. As she looked down, her long black lashes fanned over her eyes, complementing her pale skin and pink lips well. Even though she was covered in filth, blood, and all things infection related, her natural beauty refused to be steered back. In his eyes, she glowed, and in his heart, she blazed.

Words and laughter dissolved, only to be replaced with the sound of the items on the table being put to use. He watched Rebecca uncorked the Moonshine and dabbed the liquid on a sheet of paper towel, the pleasant scent (at least to him) hitting his nostrils even stronger when she brought the wet patch against his arm. Being the tender nurse she was, she cleansed his wound with extreme care and precision. Blood soaked through the first sheet fast, but before he could prepare another with Moonshine, she was already on it. The same process repeated, and even though he expected some slight pain, none came. Perhaps he was too numb to feel any more, but that just didn't feel quite it.

"You really are a genius, you know that?" he said, no jest in his tone.

"Thank you," she returned with equal seriousness.

When her touch brushed against his wrist, he squeezed her palm gently with his hand. "I'm really lucky to have you as a partner."

She nodded, and seemed to have expected him to understand her silent gesture. She fetched for something in her pocket, and a smile appeared on her face when she discovered what she was looking for. He was also surprised that the roll of gauze had not fallen out with all the other things she was carrying. Ripping a lengthy strip, she cleaned the wound a final time before rolling the dressing pad around his arm and securing it. Rebecca stared him down, noticing smaller injuries on his body.

"Hold still," she commanded.

He obliged and she quickly began disinfecting the minor cuts and scrapes across his shoulders and neck. He could live without having them tended but he couldn't deny that her touch alone soothed him more than the makeshift medication. Under this type of condition, he would imagine any human contact would be greedily desired, but Billy had never been the type to want to rely on others. If he could have things his way, he would rather work solo in exchange for the safety of his comrades. If he could have things his way, he would gladly face this nightmare alone if Rebecca could wake up to the life she had before meeting him at another place and time.

"Better?" she whispered, setting down the alcohol bottle.

"I am, but what about you?"

He frowned at the blemishes marring her once flawless skin.

"I'll be fine. I barely have any open cuts."

He tilted his chin toward her stomach. "What about that one?"

"Oh, I guess you're right…"

As she picked up the bottle, Billy resisted his instinct to grab it first. Somehow, he didn't think tending to her would give her the same effect he received. "Here, take my seat." He stood up and helped her down, keeping his eyes carefully locked on her injured leg.

"Thank you," she replied, one hand on her stomach and the other against her chest. He guessed she was being shy before because there were hidden pains she didn't want to expose.

Billy nodded and dutifully turned away, his eyes trying to catch something else that would distract him. The first thing he saw was the piano at the back of the bar. He could have sworn the light grew a shade brighter, giving the keys an unearthly glow as if it were beckoning him toward them. And he moved; without much thought or hesitation, he walked toward the piano and seated himself before the smooth, ivory keys. The delicateness of the piano was still retained amidst the bar, and no matter how much his heart swelled with grief and anger, his hands found their way to the keys and produced a melody that had haunted his years before the Marine Corps.

He still remembered every note of the song, every dynamic, accent, flow. Resentment and love moved with the piece, two feelings at war with each other from the depths of memories he wished had not been made. He felt suspended in time, naked, with only heart-wrenching emotions circulating. His hands began moving on their own, uncontrolled by his mind that was painting visions of the past. Footsteps as dainty as his genteel mother came from behind, and before her voice could criticize the nights he had placed into perfecting the song to impress her country club friends, he stopped.

"Why did you stop? It was beautiful."

His mother had never sounded this sweet, and had never been generous with praises.

"It's just not me," he admitted. The truth had never tasted so fine on his lips. Always finding he could be his true self around her, he slid over to allow room for two on the bench.

"Were you thinking about your mother?"

Billy chuckled, dry humor filling his laugh. "Yes, in a way I was." He raised his head toward the ceiling, as if it could provide him with the answers he wasn't looking for. "It's been too long since I last saw her."

"Why?"

He sighed, had never meant for this to turned into an interview about his past. There was too much he couldn't reveal, the terrible secret consuming him like poison. How could fate make him choose between fulfilling his role as a son and his duty to his people? As much as Rebecca wanted to know about his past, he couldn't tell her everything. Hell, he didn't want to, for it only reminded him of how despicable he had become. She had once told him she wouldn't judge, that she just wanted to know the truth. People say certain things when they didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Not even the kindhearted Rebecca Chambers could forgive him for what he had done.

With another sigh, he rolled his neck back and combed his sweat-filled hair back with his hands, thinking about where to begin. Somewhere safe, and would not lead into what he wanted to remain buried. An assortment of images burst in his mind, the clearest one being the night after his father's death. Deciding that this was a good place to start, he began, "I was about six when my dad passed away. I…I was devastated to say the least. I've always wanted to be just like him. He was a great man, a great father, and had never once forced me to become someone I did not want to be. We…we understood each other. I wasn't as close to my mother as I was to my dad, but we did get along until his death…"

"How did he die?" Rebecca whispered, idly brushing her fingertips against the keys. Her head remained low, as if she were a guest entering a home that forbade her presence.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Took a hit for an elderly lady. She didn't see the car coming her way...my dad intervened and was immediately killed…"

"No…" Rebecca breathed out, her hand rising to her mouth. "Billy…I…"

She was fumbling for the right words for consolation, but he knew she couldn't offer anything to erase the pain. "I don't know the full details since I was so young, and my mother and I never discussed that event again after that night. Things began to change rapidly afterward. My mother changed…she became obsessed with money, fame, her reputation…I couldn't understand why. Maybe it was the loneliness…she started seeing other men, meeting up with snobby women. Then, it all became about her status. She was way up there on her little pedestal and couldn't accept that her son didn't want to be at her level."

Rebecca nodded, her eyes shining beneath the light. "So she wanted you to change…"

"Yeah, she made me go through all sorts of goofy stuff. Forced me to learn the piano, play golf, eat like a _sophisticated _human. Heck, she wanted me to use a knife and fork when I brought home a hamburger one day because that was considered to be the dining etiquette in our home." He grinned at all the ridiculous things he had to go through. "Don't even get me started on how she wanted me to dress."

Rebecca giggled. "Amuse me."

"Cardigans, button-down shirts, ties, the most fucking uncomfortable shoes you could imagine. I know it's hard to believe but it was more painful than women's shoes."

Rebecca raised a brow, a sly smile spreading across her lips. "Oh? And you've worn women's shoes before, Ms. Coen?"

Billy laughed, a genuine one ringing throughout the empty bar. "Oh shut up, you know what I mean."

They shared the lighthearted moment together for only a few seconds before the mood became thick with angst again. "Bottom line, it was all about wealth to her. I was foolish to think I could have changed her mind…attempt to get her to be the person my father was. But…I did try…"

"What did you do?"

The same sensation he felt that night flared within him. As a child, he had heard that words can hurt more than actions, but had never experienced it until that Christmas evening. He easily would have traded her words for a two dozen slaps. "I was about fourteen or fifteen…and at that time, I already made up my mind that I didn't want to rely on her money. Of course I wasn't completely independent, but I wanted to prove to her that I was capable and responsible enough to make my own decisions so she could stop dictating my life. I had a part time job, a newspaper delivery boy. Took me about a good six months before I saved up enough money to buy her this bracelet I figured she would like. Pure gold with an amethyst heart in the center. I was no good at picking gifts so I asked this girl to help me select one…purple was my mom's favorite color and I guess you can say the heart represented my love for her. Kept it simple."

Rebecca's voice lowered, already anticipating the worst to come. "What did your mother say?"

"I was pretty excited about giving it to her for Christmas, but I didn't expect her reaction at all…" Even though it was more than a decade ago, the wound had a way of reopening itself, but then again, it had never healed. "She took one look at it and tossed it aside, claimed it was too gaudy for her taste."

He could hear anger rising in Rebecca's voice. "What? And you never explained to her how hard you worked for it?"

"I did. I told her that I worked under the brutal heat and cold, rain and shine. That didn't matter to her though. She even got mad at me for working a lowly job when I could have been lounging at home, doing whatever absurd activities she had planned out for me."

"What did she do with the bracelet?"

"I have no idea, never saw it again." He released a deep breath, a defeated sigh resting on his lips. "After high school, I decided I was going to join the Marines. Realized I wanted to be like my dad. Though he was gone, his death had always motivated me to do something productive with my life." Sensing Rebecca's pity for him, he smiled and added, "And quite honestly, I just couldn't stand my mom's taste for men's attire."

That won a giggle from her, the sound setting his heart a little more at peace.

"I guess you had a great time in the Marines then."

"The best," he confirmed. "Of course…until that day in Africa."

He had stopped feeling sorry for himself and how the situation turned out. He was almost numb to the betrayal, but his conscience would never find stability in his wayward soul unless he settled things with Regan. Billy wasn't sure if the man was still in the city, but knew their paths would cross. It had happened to fast. Regan had gone from being his commander to a psychopath who had his very life wrapped around his menacing fingers. He glanced at the deserted streets through the windows of the bar. Umbrella's secret had already been leaked, but did that mean his freedom would soon be too? He couldn't help but think that all the complications would be erased if he was dead, but meeting Rebecca had put a dent to that plan.

He felt Rebecca touching his arm. Turning to meet her face, she instantly locked her glossy eyes on his, hesitance expressed on her dirty but beautiful face. The poor girl looked as if she had been dragged to Hell and back, but her unwavering resolve was still evident, glowing like embers in her gaze. "Do you trust me, Billy?" she pushed, her voice holding back none of the uncertainty she displayed.

"Yeah, I do," he said, but wished he hadn't. He could tell she was going to go for it, and it hurt him to know that he was going to send her nothing but disappointment.

"Then tell me, those times you zoned out…why? What were they all about?" she whispered, her head titling expectantly.

He turned toward the piano keys, shame hitting him even before he spoke. "I-I can't say, at least…not just yet."

"Why not?" she pressed, urgency dripping with her question.

"Do you trust _me¸ _Rebecca?'

"Yeah…"

"Then believe me, this is for the best, for now anyway."

Her reaction shocked him. One leg planted on the floor, she bent the other on the bench, her petite body rising until their heads were at the same level. She stretched her arms, her hands moving to cup both his cheeks, turning his face toward her slowly. Her features formed an indecisive expression and he could feel her fingertips trembling against his sticky skin. His heartbeats quickened, thumping enough to let him know that he was a bit nervous about what Rebecca had in mind. He had never expected her to be this daring, and though her bold move held his interest, he was relieved when she simply pushed herself against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder, hands sliding down his face, meeting each other at the back of his neck. With any other women, he would have long initiated, pulling them into an intimate encounter, but Rebecca wasn't just the next lady with a nice face and a stunning body. Honestly, he didn't quite know how to approach her in a romantic fashion, but it was one of the last things on his mind anyway. Still, it was unusual—the little docile one taming him.

He heard her release a deep but controlled breath, like a child sighing in relief, as if she had just stopped herself from doing something she might have regretted.

"Sorry, I'm just a little worried, that's all," she murmured, her voice and air tickling the base of his neck and the shell of his ear.

He wrapped his arms around her back, completing the tight embrace. "A little?"

"Okay, a lot," she admitted. "But…I trust your word."

"Thank you, believe me, if things were different…I'd be more than happy to tell you if you wanted to know. I'm just more afraid of what your reaction would be…"

"I won't judge you," she said sternly. "I know you're a good person, whatever happened…I'm on your side."

_Easier said than done, little girl. _

She sounded convinced enough, but if she were to change her mind later, he wouldn't blame her one bit. "Thanks," he forced out.

"But we have bigger things to deal with at the moment, huh? So now what? What's the new plan?"

He pulled back to examine her. "First, are you all right?" He noticed she had bandaged herself quite well—white strips running around her arm and waist, and a smaller patch under her left collarbone, beneath the keyhole of her leather top. For just a brief moment, he allowed his mind to wander on a different tangent. God, he was so damn lucky to have such a ravishing nurse by his side.

"I've felt better, but I'm okay. You?" Concern etched in her features as she touched his arms.

"I'll live." Deciding that that was an ambiguous answer, he tried again. "I'm just feeling a bit sore but I've went through worse."

Rebecca didn't look too happy with his statement, but bought it nonetheless. He watched her for a few moments longer until she turned away, an evident blush accentuated by the light staining her cheeks. He followed her to the bar counter where she picked up her weapons, securing them into her holster. An abandoned newspaper on the side caught her attention and her eyes instantly grew wide with excitement at the image on the front cover. Billy didn't see what was so special about it. The newspaper was about a month old, the headlines stating that there had been a boating accident—

_Wait!_

"Tell me you're thinking what I'm thinking!" she cried, apparently seeing his grin expanding with their hopes.

"How far is the dock from here?"

"With the trains cut, it'll take a good few hours by walking, but not impossible," Rebecca assessed, rubbing her chin lightly."I think we just found our new ticket out of this place."

"Assuming there's still something anchored for us to use."

"There should be, only one way to find out…but…" she trailed off.

Billy didn't like the way she was biting her lower lip, the pout making him feel weak.

"Jill…she's still in the city, I know she is. We can't just leave her here."

Shit. He hadn't forgotten about Jill, but Rebecca was right. Jill could be anywhere in the city, and perhaps she was even finding her own means of escape right this very moment. He didn't know how they were going to locate her. Hell, she could be right outside at the moment and they wouldn't even know. "Maybe we should just head to the dock and see if we can secure our escape? Afterward, we can go back and look for Jill?"

"Would we make it? What if that freak is waiting for us, just preparing to blow up our only method of escape again?"

He saw her shudder and felt cold sweat crawling down his own back. There was no telling if they had finished Nemesis for good back there, but they couldn't sit in this bar forever either. He wished someone would just send in the cavalry already but the chances of that happening didn't look so hot.

"We're not safe as long as I'm around, remember? It's after S.T.A.R.S…."

"Well that thing's not safe as long as _we're _around," he countered, pleased to see a tiny smile on Rebecca's face. If he had the time and opportunity, he could really shower her with praises until her own embarrassment killed her. She was seriously one hell of a trooper, much more fierce and intelligent than he had been when he was eighteen, or perhaps even now. "That thing's not gonna get you."

Hesitance still lingered with her frown.

"Come on," he urged and gently poked the tip of her delicate nose. "Impress me, little girl."

"I think I've already have," she whispered shyly, one shoulder arching against her cheek.

That audacious, sly one! No doubt she did, but he had to play along for her sake. "What can I say, I'm quite hard to please."

Her blush intensified, and he suddenly wondered if they were on the same page. He threw her the most intimidating, yet seductive look he could muster, and as he had expected, she quickly turned on her heels and headed for the door. Billy smirked, shook his head and followed. He didn't know what was awaiting them as they stepped out into the streets again, but just knowing that Rebecca was not alone chased away his misgivings. They were going to make it; at the very least, she would.

* * *

A/N: Just another small moment between Billy and Rebecca, but the content in this chapter will play a role in the story later on, so it wasn't for nothing. Sorry about being a bit slow with this update. I actually went through all my previous chapters and revised them, fixing up grammar and particularly pov issues, which were pointed out by Maiafay months ago (huge thank you!). Nothing has been edited in terms of plot content but I really do feel better about cleaning up the chapters.

Thank you again for reading everyone! I enjoy reading everyone's comments, and I'm thrilled to see that people are still into this story, so thank you!

Until Chapter 22; there's still more to come!


	22. Chapter 22

The Threads That Break

**Tuesday, September 29th, noon**

Rebecca had somehow thought that the daytime would banish, or at the very least, make the nightmares seem slightly less frightening than they did at night. Things had always been creepier to her at night ever since she could remember. Whatever she couldn't see with her eyes caused her imagination to run wild, conjuring all sorts of images that only existed in her mind. But now, without darkness obscuring reality, she wished night would just drop its dark veil over the scenes she despised witnessing, scenes that were so much worse than what her imagination could ever produce.

She dropped her tired arms and turned away as Billy fired the final shot that caused the head of the zombie before them to rupture. A red and white shower of blood and bones rained upon its body as it sluggishly fell to the ground. It released an odd sounding moan, as if it were soothed by the knowledge that its life had finally been put to an end.

Billy sighed and checked his ammunition. "You got a spare magazine?"

Rebecca nodded and handed him what he needed. Billy was running out of ammo much quicker than she was. She tried to play it off that he was the better shooter, but in all honesty, she had a feeling that he understood her reluctance to fire. These people, who could now only be identified as monsters if she was being kind with her wording, could have been her friends or neighbors at one point. As a resident of the city she had once loved and protected, it was difficult to accept that her home was perishing, its existence vanishing from the world but never from her heart.

He accepted it quietly and reloaded his handgun before turning to survey their surroundings. They had been walking for a few hours and the roads that had once been distinguishable were now all starting to look similar—sprayed with blood, littered with bodies, and planted with blockades. Rebecca looked left and right, trying hard to figure out which direction they needed to head in. Billy was relying on her navigational skills, and even though she wanted to admit that she was feeling lost in her own city, she couldn't bring herself to drop another bombshell of disappointment.

_This is great. We finally get a lead and now you can't remember which way leads to the dock! _

"We're lost, aren't we?"

She heard him sigh behind her but when she turned to face him, he offered her an encouraging smile, one that reached his eyes. She bit her lower lip and shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe just a little, but we'll be on the right track again."

"Have you been there before?"

"Yeah, but all the times were by the train, but since that's busted, we're just going to have to use our feet." Rebecca felt her eyelids drooping as she surveyed the streets again. They were standing in the middle of an intersection, beneath a damaged traffic light and a bent lamppost. She shuddered, remembering how numb she had felt when she saw Nemesis uprooting one from the earth before chucking it at Billy with the intention of killing him. It was only after seeing him miraculously dodge it that she felt life returning to her, her senses reminding her that Billy's safety was in her hands.

"You said we should get there in a few hours, huh?" Sarcasm dripped in his tone but his intentions were simply to humor her. He put hand on her shoulder and observed her face carefully. "You look like you're about to fall asleep any minute."

Rebecca felt her cheeks flush. First, in her excitement earlier, she had clearly underestimated the time it would take for them to get to the dock. Obviously, she hadn't taken getting lost into account. Second, even she couldn't deny that she was exhausted. She had spent nights without sleeping before, but she hadn't been shooting, running, and preventing herself from being killed by an abomination that wanted her dead. She couldn't see how tired her eyes were, but she certainly felt fatigue weighing them down. A part of her wanted to make a comment about how tired Billy looked as well, but to her dismay, she found that he couldn't have been more awake, his eyes piercing her gaze with keenness she had never seen before.

Rebecca opened her mouth to argue but he pressed an index finger toward her lips. "Maybe we should just take some time to rest. If there's something waiting for us at the dock, I doubt it'll be going anywhere. We haven't even seen any survivors."

"But Jill, what if she needs us right now?"

"I think you'll be more useful to her if you're well rested, no?"

Rebecca hesitated. Billy had a point; she needed sleep, and nap sounded like a treat from heaven right about now. On the other hand, they could be wasting precious hours they may desperately need later on.

"Rebecca, you're so tired that you can't even think straight. I know right now isn't the best time to rest, but you _need _it," he reminded her with a pushy edge in his tone.

After a few more moments of silent debate, she finally nodded. "Fine, I guess you're right. I guess an hour nap won't hurt?"

He seemed to feel more at ease after hearing her response and nodded back, displaying his approval. Something behind her caught his attention. She turned to see what he was staring at and raised a brow, completely forgetting that one of the many Apple Inns just so happened to be conveniently available for them a block down from where they were standing. The proud sign dangled from a drooping awning, the letters slowly being consumed by the tendrils of flames that snaked up the sides and front of the three-story building. The inn was burning, but the fire was rather mild, the smoke just visible, faint gray air hovering over the building, giving it an eerie vibe.

"Hate to say this, but I don't think I can think of a better location." Billy began walking first, training his gun ahead as he approached the inn with wide strides.

She had no choice but to follow and watch his back as he prepared to chivalrously put himself in the face of danger first. She should be focusing on any unforeseen threats, but found her mind wandering, thoughts drifting between finding Jill, this lost city, and Billy. Things were complicated to say the least, but somehow, she knew that the reality of them was more complex. As she pushed her battered body to move forward, Rebecca couldn't shake the ominous sensation that things would only grow bleaker and she could do nothing to help. She remembered this feeling. It came to her shortly before discovering that Wesker had betrayed all the S.T.A.R.S. members.

_So what are you trying to say? _

She was almost too afraid to admit her own answer as she watched Billy carefully. Anger suddenly sprang from her chest, and it was directed toward no one but herself. Earlier, her heart couldn't have been more certain regarding the one person she could count on right now, but in just a matter of a few seconds, she felt the conviction fragmenting; as much as she wanted the pieces to unite, they just wouldn't.

_You gave him your word that you trusted him. Stop letting your stupid fears get to you!_

Maybe he was right. Exhaustion really was taking a toll on her, not just physically, but cognitively as well.

_Y-you even almost kissed him…_

That thought made her wince. She didn't know what had gotten into her. Nothing had been right—the moment, timing, her mindset; what pressed her was her instinct and the blooming knowledge that she was beginning to see him as someone who was more than her partner and friend, and the selfish part of her hoped that she could be someone more than just _his _partner and friend. She remembered coming to her senses at the last minute, avoiding what would have most likely been unrequited affection.

"Hey, you all right?"

So trained on his guidance, she barely realized she had just stepped into the vestibule of what had once been a small, cozy inn. Surprisingly, the smell of smoke wasn't as potent as she had expected even though she saw and heard fire crackling in the corners of the lobby, the color of the blazes matching closely with the crimson, plush carpet woven with intricate patterns. The registration desk on their left was empty except for a guestbook and a small bell that served no purpose now, for the receptionist was found behind the desk, her head gruesomely twisted to one side. Besides that one corpse, the hall that led to the rooms in the back was empty. What lied behind the doors on the other hand…well, she didn't see a reason to go searching for trouble unless she had to.

"Yeah," she laughed it off. "Just…tired."

Billy grinned and started his way up the stairs after a quick observation of the first floor. "Let's get a room then."

The heat surrounding them was less than helpful in soothing the blush she felt surfacing. Glad that she couldn't see his face, she followed him up the steps, turning around the banister as more steps led to the second floor. The fire seemed to have eaten away most of the lavender walls at the front of the hall, leaving behind gaping, charred holes. Someone must have tried to put out the inferno, for only the damages the conflagration left behind remained. The same carpeting used on the first floor was used here, too, making the path before them appear like a river of blood. Billy stopped to hear for any disturbances, and when the moments passed and he detected none, he started moving down the hall, his eyes wandering from one door to the next.

Rebecca remained close, her own gaze taking an interest in the numerous paintings that lined the panels running down the corridor. Most of them were scenic images- paintings of wildlife, mountains, forests, and there were also few famous ones she had studied in an art class two years ago. _Pretty, _she thought, but kept the comment to herself, seeing no purpose in announcing it.

Billy opened a few doors, and though he kept his weapon prepared, he found no use for them. Surprisingly, the rooms, while unkempt, were void of guests. They hadn't heard a single disturbing groan of hunger since they entered. It looked as if this place was one of the few areas, if not the only one, in Raccoon that had not been completely overtaken by swarms of zombies.

"Looks like everyone checked out," was his crack at a joke.

"A bit creepy, but I guess we should count our lucky stars," Rebecca answered, wiping away beads of sweat from her forehead and suddenly wishing that she was outside again to feel the cool breeze of September. However, she immediately changed her mind when she followed Billy into a room with two queen-size beds that supported mattresses that looked bouncy and pillows and sheets that appeared soft enough to snuggle against. Room 225 was small, but it had everything a party of two would need—a walk-in closet to the left of the entrance, a small bathroom, a television set with drawers for clothes, two nightstands with two fancy lamps by the beds, and a coffee table by a wide window with its gold curtains drawn.

Billy closed the wooden door behind them and dropped his weapons on the table before plopping himself down on the bed closer to the window, splaying his legs and tossing an arm over his face. "Shit, this feels so good."

Rebecca smiled and dropped her belongings at edge of the bed before seating herself on the mattress with much more grace. Crossing one leg over the other, she folded her hands and planted them over her thigh, her eyes tracing the outline of Billy's drained body. "You okay? If you're not feeling so well, maybe we can search the inn for a medical kit and I can—"

"I'm perfectly fine, but you on the other hand…" He grunted and sat up, swinging his legs over the bed so he was directly sitting across from her. "Don't make me put you to sleep, young lady."

She never got the chance to ask what he meant by that statement, already felt herself being lifted from the bed by a pair of well-toned, injured arms. It was only after feeling her head fall against the pillow that she realized Billy had just picked her up bridal-style and carefully set her full height on the gentle cushioning of the mattress.

"I could have done that myself you know," she whispered, finding comfort in the kind gesture and the warm smile he revealed to her.

"Yes, but _would _you have is the question."

She smirked, agreeing with his logic. Before the lighthearted situation turned awkward, Billy stood up and stretched his arms, his back muscles flexing as he pulled his arms backward. She watched him face the curtains, and saw the hesitation that prevented him from parting them. It was better left this way; no view was better than the view outside. The glow of daylight was still evident against the gold fabric, making it slightly uncomfortable for her to rest. She often enjoyed sleeping and relaxing in darkness; quite the shock she had been told by her friends.

But, the more she stared at the beam of sunray that was prevented from fully leaking into the room, the quicker she realized that she was simply trying to lay blame on something that made itself convenient for her to abuse. She was so very tired, but terribly frightened at the same time that she wouldn't be waking up to what she had now. Rebecca couldn't exactly formulate the thought into the right words, but the ominous awareness that things were going to rapidly change would not leave her mind in peace. What made her feel worse was the fact that she couldn't explain why she had started associating Billy with ideas that made no sense, that couldn't possibly make any sense. She wondered if this was one of her 'intuitions,' and sincerely hoped not because her intuitions rarely failed her.

She had given him her genuine word that she trusted him and that she would always be on his side no matter what his dark secret would bring. She had sworn she wouldn't judge, and she still didn't plan to, but then—

…_but then what is this I'm feeling? I keep telling myself I'm tired, but that's not it, and I know it…why? Why is it now that I'm starting to think that there's more to Billy than meets the eye?_

Rebecca had been fighting sleep for hours and thought now was a good time to surrender herself to it, wanting desperately for her drowsiness to numb the guilt and sickening commotion that stirred her heart. Taking one last look at Billy, she closed her eyes and hoped that after a good sleep, she'd be able to dispel these ill thoughts, but knew it wasn't going to be that simple.

* * *

**Tuesday, September 29th, evening**

Regan slapped a fresh magazine into his pistol and angrily kicked the empty as it landed on the cemented ground, sending it skidding into a tin trashcan. He should have been close to the last lab he was supposed to plan the explosives in already, but was informed by Umbrella that Nemesis needed to be revived again. He received the coordinates of the B.O.W.'s location and it had taken him longer than he'd planned to reach the site. The manmade monster was badly damaged under a heavy load of bricks (which had taken him quite awhile remove), but thankfully, all the vital and internal programs had been spared by the shell of its burnt skin. It was still functional, even more powerful than it had been earlier, just more grotesque than ever. Much of the creature's synthetic skin had sloughed off, exposing raw, bleeding flesh with boils of pus and other infectious liquids.

_Which means those S.T.A.R.S. members are still here in the city, along with Coen…_

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and waited for a signal to come in through his radio. After finding a vast, barren area that was suitable for his delivery, he immediately sent his location to one of the private pilots he personally trusted. He glanced at his watch and suppressed a groan of agitation. Fifteen minutes late.

He wanted to get out of the city as soon as possible but still had one more lab to shut down. In addition, he wanted to run some new tests with this failed B.O.W. he was expecting. Regan had been one of the leading staff members on the development of this promising but defunct B.O.W., and seeing how it would perform for the first time on the battlefield would surely enable him to make the proper adjustments for any future experiments he would work on. Though he wasn't as brilliant as the more popular researchers, Birkin and Wesker, he was still ranked pretty highly within the ranks of Umbrella's Bio-Weapons Research Department.

He checked his watch again. Three minutes had passed. It looked as if this was going to take awhile. Having nothing else to do, not even a stupid-death walker to kill, he observed his surroundings. He wasn't familiar with Raccoon but had studied the map of the city well enough to know that he was somewhere in the Cider District, and needed to move in the direction of downtown Raccoon to get to the Raccoon City University, which secretly housed the last Umbrella lab.

From the amount of stores and buildings in the Cider District, Regan guessed that this was where the majority of Raccoon's business bloomed-bars, restaurants, small boutique stores, grocery stores, supermarkets, random miscellaneous stores and an Apple Inn, the third one he encountered throughout his 'exploration' of Raccoon.

_Busiest part of the city, yet the most deserted street I've come across yet. Very odd._

He didn't know the logic to that observation, but couldn't care less about it. Finally, as the minutes began to stretch, static hissed through his radio and the sound of an incoming chopper livened the muted streets.

Regan thumbed the receiver. "Report in."

"_Pulling in, sir. You sure you don't need a lift out of here?"_

"My job isn't done yet. I'll give you a call when it is, but for now, I want to see my little experiment."

"_It's all yours."_

Louder and more distinct were the sound of the 'copter's blades whipping through the stale air. Regan finally saw the plane coming into view, lowering when it was right above the street he was standing in. The engines slowed for just a few brief moments as the chains anchoring a ten-foot capsule disconnected themselves from the body of the helicopter. He watched it fall, his excitement growing as quickly as the pod that was descending toward him. He heard the engines revving, the 'copter taking off into the gray-orange horizon before his creation smashed into the earth, the glass encasing the creation inside it rupturing into a burst of silver specs, the green liquid within bubbling and draining on to the pavement.

Regan stood in amazement as he marveled at the wonder he had helped produce. He had been called away before the completion of the project, and so this was his first time seeing his months of work face-to-face. Failed or experiment or not, to see the creature writhe and breathe, screech and whine, gave him more pride than finishing his mission would. This was _his _beautiful work of art, hauntingly magnificent in its own twisted way.

"I haven't even named you yet," he breathed, taking bold steps toward the broken pod. He knelt by it, his fingers moving toward the side of the case, fishing for the keypad that would unlock the shackles around the B.O.W.'s body. Aside from the generic specimen label it was given, no one had referred to it by any other names.

Finding the keys, he quickly entered the numeric password. The bonds that held the B.O.W. disbanded, freeing its wrists and ankles, allowing it to prance out of its prison with a high-pitch shriek that made his bones shake with thrill. It was really alive, breathing, breathtaking, and he knew just what to call it.

Josephine may not be as dangerous or intellectually responsive as Nemesis or Umbrella's other bio-weapons, but if he could collect the combat data and monitor her using what skills she did possess, he could one day refine his future experiments to exceed the capabilities of Nemesis.

And Spencer would be proud.

* * *

Billy mentally went through the routes that should take them to the dock, which was located along Good Street, very close to Raccoon City University. Feeling good about the preparation he made, he folded the map and stuffed it into his back pocket. Around six hours had passed since they had made it into the inn. He knew Rebecca said she wanted to nap no more than an hour, but he just couldn't bring himself to disturb the rest she needed. While she slept, he had decided to check the inn for a map of the city in order to gather as much information he could. He wanted to be ready to move out again without any setbacks when Rebecca woke up. They still had a long way to go before making it to Good Street, but he had thoroughly marked up the city's map, and assuming that there were no obstacles in the way, the journey to the dock should be smooth.

When he had discovered the map, he had kissed the paper and sent a silent message of gratitude to the occupant of room 305, who appeared to have been a tourist of the city. After checking the front desk and all the rooms on the first and second floor for a map, he had begun to lose hope of finding one in the building until he stumbled into the second to the last room on the third floor. Then, he had spent the next hour or so tracing the quickest route to the dock from their current location. Feeling satisfied and not a little thrilled to be on the streets again, he turned to Rebecca.

The young medic was still caught in a deep slumber, her heavy breaths echoing her fatigue. Watching her sleep was making him tired, too, but it was too unsafe for both of them to be unconscious. Sacrificing his sleep for her was no big deal, seeing that she needed it more. The room was gradually becoming darker, the last of the sun's rays retreating into the gray horizon. Night was slowly approaching, the nightmares outside becoming more appropriate with the shift from the hours of light to darkness.

Billy got up from his seat next to the coffee table and made his way toward the nightstand in between the two beds, turning on the lamp, allowing a faint glow to illuminate a small portion of the room. He sat on the bed across from Rebecca's and found himself observing her sleeping form. Unconscious with her wounds bathing under the light, she looked more frail and vulnerable than ever, but he knew he shouldn't underestimate her true prowess. Unlike him, she wasn't a strong fighter, but time had taught him that not all battles were fought and won with physical strength. He guessed what he wanted to say was…

"I'm proud of you, kid," he admitted with a grin. He leaned over and brushed back thick strands of hair that were falling over her eyes, wishing he could do the same to her worries. Worries that he was responsible for. "You know I'd tell you if I could," he continued, his voice dropping to a lonesome whisper. He took her left hand into his, smoothing his thumb over her palm as he wondered about how she'd taken his reluctance in making the biggest confession of his life until—

-a roar, a raw, devastating burst of an inhuman cry erupted from the streets below, causing a rough force to clench his heart.

_Fuck, don't tell me that thing's back!_

He jumped up and approached the window, parting the curtains to find the disturbances below. He squinted, but couldn't see anything that he hadn't expected, but whatever the hell that thing was, it still had to be nearby, lurking about and waiting for them.

_And if it's Nemesis, I'm going to make sure to fucking kill it once and for all._

Leaving the flaps of the curtain coiling into each other, he holstered the shotgun and the handgun before removing Rebecca's radio from her belt. He hit the switch that turned on the receiver and double-checked to make sure his radio was working as well. Relieved that both were functional, he placed Rebecca's radio on the nightstand and bolted out the door, wanting to eliminate whatever threat that was after her because of her affiliation with S.T.A.R.S.. Billy hoped to be back to get her in the shortest amount of time possible, but if he were to get caught up, he wanted to make sure she was still all right. If she were in danger, he'd be able to hear her over the radio, which meant he couldn't wander far from the inn in case he had to reach her in time.

_Which means whatever you are out there better show your ass and be quick at it._

He stormed down the stairs, hooking around the banister and jumped over the last seven steps. He shouldered into the doors of the front entrance, pushing himself into the quiet, deserted street. Not a single sign of commotion.

"What the hell…" he breathed, his words acknowledged only by a mild draft.

"Ah, look who came out of hiding…"

_Or so I'd thought._

That voice, that cold calculating voice!

Billy whirled around, raising his gun as he did, the muzzle pointing directly before Regan's forehead. His old commander seemed to have stepped out smugly from the shadows. His hands were folded behind him, a smirk on his face. No weapons visible. Overly confident. What the hell was going on?

"Coen, I see that you're still alive. I must say that I am impressed." The words poured from his mouth smoothly, like there was an intention behind what he had said. He walked closer, slowly closing the gap between them.

Billy tightened his grip on the weapon, trying hard to not let it show on his face that he was bothered by the fact that the man was speaking so boldly without any defenses visible, without reserve. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"I have business to take care of." Five feet away from him, he stopped. A malicious grin spread across his face, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Oh, Coen, it seems like you're missing your partner. Is she all right? You didn't let her die, did you? I think the more demanding question is, you didn't kill her with your own hands—"

Rage seared to his throat and escaped as a violent scream, the adrenaline rush powering his body to propel forward, his fist to strike the hard jaw that spewed shameless words. Regan didn't see the collision coming and landed on the ground on one knee. Even with blood dripping from his lips, the grin did not falter, only widened as he stood up, exposing empty hands.

"Don't you _dare…_y-you knew exactly what happened that day in Africa, you bastard!" Anger rattled against his chest, making his finger twitch ever so closely against the trigger of his gun.

"What are you waiting for? You want to kill me right? Do it, pull the trigger, you blood-thirsty barbarian." Regan chuckled, his shoulders shaking gently with the release of mysterious mirth before they began trembling, his laughter growing in volume.

Billy didn't, couldn't think twice about the consequences that would follow on the coattails of this one move. Shear anger possessed him to draw his finger against the trigger—

-only something heavy and scaly pounced on his back, brushing his arm to the side, causing the bullet to go amiss. The shot rang in his ears, disorienting him as he felt whatever that was on his back kick him with a tremendous force that sent him sprawling to the ground, the handgun skidding from his reach. Billy closed his eyes for a moment, trying to readjust himself, and immediately jumped out of his daze when he heard a torturous howl that pierced the bones in his body; it was the same cry he had head in the inn.

He didn't waste another second in diving for his weapon, rolling out of the way just in time as that _thing _came crashing down on the space he had just occupied seconds before. With the handgun firmly tucked between his palms again, Billy balanced his weight on one knee as he stared in bewilderment at the creature growling before him.

He caught a quick glimpse of it before it bounced off the cemented earth with its impossibly nimble and flexible legs. It was a few inches shorter than him, possessed a humanoid form, feminine with obvious womanly curves. Its entire body was charred and weathered with surgical staples running over skin that stretched over thick varicose veins that were visibly pulsing, rapidly pumping life throughout the monster. What was not concealed by what appeared to be a blood-stained, threadbare dress was nauseating to the sight, painful to the heart, but it was its face that made him unable to suppress a deep shudder. Slits for eyes were lost in the voluminous blubber that also swallowed the outline of the nose. The lips were swollen, the bottom lip carrying a sickly, green-colored tumor the size of his hand, a round solid mass of bubbling pus.

_Oh God, this thing was once human…_

Billy briefly turned around, searching for Regan, finding him standing a few feet away with a cool and composed demeanor. "Are you responsible for this?" he growled, already knowing the answer before he asked. Somehow, that thing was being controlled by Regan. It was the only explanation for the bastard's smug grin.

If he had answered, Billy didn't hear it, was already shooting for the B.O.W.'s head as it came charging toward him—

-except it possessed unrivaled agility, dodging every bullet flying toward it. Frustrated, Billy withdrew his shotgun and raised it just in time to shield his chest from being punctured by claws that revealed exactly what they were capable of in the deep lines etched upon the barrel of the firearm. He pulled back the weapon and kicked his right leg forward, his foot slamming into the beast's tumor, the impact causing it to flail backward.

On the ground, it screeched in agony, a gaping saliva-drenched hole widening as its lips parted. He noticed the tumor pulsating wildly and immediately recognized it as a weak spot. _Got you now…_

Feeling just a little sorry for the monster, his mind tried to reason with him that killing it so it could finally rest in peace was the best thing he could do for it. He took aim and pumped the shotgun, was so close to pulling the trigger when the faintest of glimmers, but the brightest one in his eyes, made his hands feel as if they had just been shot with his own shell. His palms quaked, the motion diffusing fire and pain he had never felt before to the rest of his body, parching his throat and eyes, robbing his air that he no longer felt he needed. He was subsisting on just the memories that flashed through his mind—what he had once thought to be bitter memories, angry memories; but now they became his wishes, prayers even, and if God really was out there, then-

_Please, no…_

It had to be a mistake, a sick joke Regan was playing, a hallucination, a dream, a nightmare, anything, anything but what vehemently held his eyes like a basilisk's gaze.

His lips trembled as he struggled to deny the one syllable that would shatter the smallest hope that he wasn't confronting one of his worst fears. But as the monster brought its hand toward its face, claws digging into the rotten skin, one wrist continued to glisten under the moonlight like a beacon beckoning him. He trudged forward as if possessed, the amethyst heart instilled within the gold band around that fragile and sinewy wrist growing larger in his unblinking eyes. He remembered the bracelet being a little loose on human wrist, but against the current terrible, swollen skin, it cuffed like a shackle.

And it, no, _she, _was a prisoner chained to her doom.

He hadn't seen her in eight years, and had never expected that she might not even understand the one word he wanted to say to her after those eight long years…

Upon finding the courage to face the truth he could no longer reject, his voice shook with the sight of her bleary image as tears he had held back for eight years surfaced.

"M-mom…"

* * *

A/N: First, thank you all for reading! I know it's been awhile since the last update. The idea at the end, regarding Billy's mother, was an idea that came to me a few weeks ago. It was not part of the original outline but as I started talking about Billy's past, new ideas popped up, and now Josephine has a bigger role. I was, and still am, pretty nervous about the content in this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts, and once again, thanks again for reading and reviewing!


	23. Chapter 23

Speed of Darkness

**Tuesday, September 29th, night**

The maelstrom of rage dispersed the moment that one word was whispered. It was low, faint, but she heard it. She didn't know what the word meant, but recalled hearing it in the past-and hearing it repeated again sent a shot of dull pain toward her chest-the aches not all physical. A man—the threat—was standing before her, unmoving, his eyes welling with liquid she once had been capable of releasing. She remembered that much, but not much more.

She understood that the sound he emitted was similar to dying croaks, when voices were exhausted from screams. She remembered that, too, more than anything.

Upon hearing that voice moaning that one word, she wanted to remember so much more, but she didn't know anything else but violence, anger, and death. She lifted one powerful claw, swinging it back, preparing to strike, but found that as she neared the target, there was something familiar about him. She ceased her attack and growled as a strange sensation settled over her. She stared into his eyes and noticed he was far different from her—and what was different must be a danger. She wasn't sure where she had gotten that notion from. It was more innate than anything; her body knew just what to do to protect her from all foreign invaders.

But the more she stared, the more immobilized she was becoming—

-and deciding that she didn't like losing control, not at all, she delivered the blow with only slight hesitation. She watched him fall before her, his head hitting the ground before his arms and legs as blood jetted from the wounds on his back.

And for reasons she couldn't explain, the burst of success she was expecting never came.

* * *

The sharp pain knocked him out of one state of mind and into another. Billy swallowed as he caught his breath, tasting the copper tinge of blood in the back of his throat when the shotgun flew out of his hands. One thing was certain about Josephine—she always hit hard. As a child, his disobedience had often resulted in his tear-stained cheek stinging with burns left behind from an unfriendly palm, but he had never once felt dizzy from her slaps, never once had blood running from a deep cut on his lip. That realization made him shake away the shock, but not the droplets of tears that fell as quickly as his hopes that the ugly truth was nothing but a nauseating dream he could wake up from. The seconds passed, and though Billy knew he was hurt, he could no longer feel the physical agony as he stared into Josephine's soulless blue eyes.

Against her gray decaying body, the bracelet around her wrist shined like a dying star—something beautiful amidst the end of a life. He saw her raise her claw again, and seeing the bracelet caused a rush of energy to circulate throughout his body, sending his hands to capture the crusty wrist. He supported his weight on his knees as Josephine's howl shook his core. Billy gripped her arm tighter in response, pleading her to stop with his wet eyes and rushed whispers that left his sore mouth. He didn't know what he was mumbling, being too relieved that whatever he was saying was having an effect on her, for he felt her resistance wavering against his trembling hands.

The same look of hesitance her eyes had betrayed before was back as he repeated the one word that seemed to be swaying her over.

"Your attempts are pathetic. She does not understand you."

Regan. He had forgotten that treacherous man was still here, but as his voice reverberated in his ears, so did the boiling anger in his heart. On the inside, his rage was uglier than the bio-weapon his mother had become, his inward screams far more piercing than the unnatural shriek of the woman he loved and still do. Billy didn't even notice the seconds elapsing as he shifted his attention from Josephine to Regan. His hands no longer clutched scaly flesh, but human skin…tight human skin around a human neck with no cankerous sores.

"You promised! You fucking promised! What did you DO to her, you sick freak?" He slammed his fist against Regan's jaw with a force so great that he felt it could leave the bruise to swell to the size of his mother's sickening tumor.

He reeled his arm back, preparing to land another strike when he flew backward, the ground catching his fall without mercy. Billy clutched his chest, registering the kick only after Regan jumped to his steady feet. He smoothed his trench coat and grinned, as if completely unfazed by the bright red mark beneath his right cheek.

"She came to US. Your mother found out she had thyroid cancer and came to us, seeking an experimental drug that would help her recover. The T-JCCC203 is a T-Virus variant mutagen. Josephine knew the consequences when she decided to sign up as a guinea pig."

"You liar! You used her to get to me, didn't you? The day you found out that I escaped my execution…that must have been the day you took her!"

Regan shook his head, the grin settling into a muted line. "I won't say this again. Your mother came to us for the drug. The T-JCCC203 failed to suppress the cancer growth, but instead of killing her like it had with others, her body did not reject the T-Virus. We were very interested in how the virus was developing within her body, so we decided to run extra tests and experiments on her. If it makes you feel any better, your mother had already gone through most of the gruesome transformations you are witnessing now before we used her for our own research. Your mother believed in Umbrella."

Guilt and sorrow infested his heart as the words sank in. If Regan was right, then he had been one pathetic son, leaving his own mother to fend for herself when she needed him the most. True, he didn't know, but somehow, that didn't matter. If Regan was lying, it could only mean that Umbrella captured her for revenge, after they discovered he was still alive. But trying to discover if Regan was lying wasn't important. The end result was the same. His mother had and was still suffering infinitely, and nothing could reverse that.

He turned to Josephine, ripples of nausea eating his strength like acid. She didn't move, but Billy could tell by her stance that she was thirsty for blood. She hunched over, her claws dragging against the cement as the tumor pulsated as fast as his heartbeats. For the second time, he let go of rationality that had kept his mind grounded for the past twenty-six years, and allowed his emotions to lead him to do what felt right, what _was_ right.

Her hands flew up in preparation to attack, but he had already anticipated her defense and quickly grabbed her forearms, shoving his body against skin that sent icy shivers down his back. She was strong, but he was stronger, and not even his agonizing wounds could hinder him from what he wanted to do, but shouldn't. "Mom! Listen to me!" he begged, his voice cracking after each word that was drowned out by her screeches of protest. Still, he tried to keep his pleas coherent, his gaze firm as he looked into her sad blue eyes that reflected her torture. "It's me, Billy! Mom!"

His body shuddered when she writhed against him, struggling to break free from his embrace. He had never felt this scared in his life, but the fright only made him hug her tighter. He didn't fear what she had become, but the thought that she no longer recognized him as her son. Heat engulfed his body, and Billy understood that her internal temperature must be out of control, the fever reaching limits that would have longed killed an ordinary person. What fed the fever, he didn't know, but he couldn't deny that her agitation probably played a part.

And he was the cause of that.

She shrieked again, causing him to reflexively close his eyes, his lids squeezing out the last of his tears. "S-stop. Please…I'm so sorry," he whispered. What he said next came out with no hesitation.

"I love you."

The words unspoken for over a decade finally helped him see that his pride was not worth as much as he'd thought. His stupid honor had cost them their past, and now, no amount he wanted to offer could buy them a future. "So sorry…" he muttered, selfishly wanting the forgiveness he didn't deserve.

The screams faded to low growls and her muscles suddenly began to relax, the strains slowly dissolving. When he gently touched the bracelet, moisture gathered in her eyes, and in the wells of blue, he could see tiny reflections of his face. He sensed that she was beginning to respond to him again, and now that her attention was fixed upon him, he didn't know what else to say. There was just too much he needed to get out, but before he could even start, he already became aware that time was running out. Seconds later, he was sprawled on the ground again, right beside his shotgun.

Just as he was about to grab the weapon, Regan slammed a foot into his right shoulder, his heel smeared with fresh blood. Pain ran like liquid flames throughout Billy's body, stealing his first breath and scream.

A chuckle that dripped with triumph accompanied the smirk on Regan's face. "Sorry, but I don't do family reunions."

"You won't get away with this—"

"Watch me." Regan smiled and pulled a small vial out of his pocket.

When Regan lifted the item, Billy saw that it was a syringe, and knew immediately that he wasn't planning on injecting himself with whatever the strange liquid was.

* * *

Rebecca thought she was dreaming when she heard static hissing, but nobody screamed like _that _in dreams. Realizing that much, she woke with a startled jump, expecting to find Billy next to her to fill her in on what was going on. Instead, she faced an empty room, no one to reassure her that everything was fine, and even worse, no one to warn her that nothing was all right. Panic chased away any remnants of sleep and exhaustion as she spun around, taking in the entire room with one sweep and thinking where the noise had come from. Her eye caught the radio by the bed, and she instantly grabbed it before reprimanding herself for her lack of insight.

She thumbed the button. "Billy? Are you there? Come in!"

She waited and tried to not assume the worst when he didn't respond. "Billy? Can you hear me?" she asked again, trying to stabilize her voice with calmness she didn't feel.

What she heard terrified her more than his silence. The shattering screams returned, but in the background, she heard someone gasping heavily. Someone, who sounded awfully like Billy began to talk, but the static grew louder, devouring the words she desperately needed to hear. "Billy!" she tried again for the last time before understanding that what she was doing was getting nowhere.

Rebecca examined the room for any signs of disturbances and found that the curtains were not how she remembered them to be. They were furled into each other, like someone had closed them with haste. Frowning, she pocketed the radio and walked to the window, gently pushing apart the fabric, her eyes searching the shadows for any hints on what was going on. Not far from the inn, three figures blurred with the darkness. Two of them were distinctly human, but she wasn't so sure about the last one.

A gunshot disturbed the eerily calm room, and a second later, Rebecca heard the same shot echoing from the radio. Without another glance, she turned around and grabbed her Samurai Edge, exiting the room without precautions she normally would have taken. Her fear for Billy's life far outweighed any of her personal trepidations. She was ready to face whatever was waiting for her.

As she jogged down the stairs as quickly as she could with her injured leg hindering her movements, she came to realize that she had never felt more prepared to give her life to save another if she had to. Just to stop feeling the apprehension terrorizing her heart was a precious reward in itself. During her days of training with S.T.A.R.S., she had been taught to keep her emotions in check under any circumstances, but not even the toughest S.T.A.R.S. members had been able to do that. A concept so easy to comprehend went against camaraderie that defined the difference between comrades and mindless soldiers like the products of Umbrella.

The epiphany helped her see that she had been right to choose the career that had made her question her abilities, but more importantly, she was beginning to grasp what the S.T.A.R.S. victims must have felt during their last moments alive. Their deaths had given her and the survivors a purpose far greater than one Life could ever provide.

Although she still couldn't quite fully figure out Billy, she knew he would be able to fulfill what she wanted him to. For the first time, Rebecca Chambers was beginning to see some beauty in sacrifice. Revelations sure could come during the strangest times.

_Billy, hold on!_

She nearly lost her balance entering the lobby but managed to catch her fall by doubling her speed, turning the jog into a run, ignoring all physical obstructions. Rebecca reached for the doorknob, a wave of cold alarm washing over her as she prepared to face what she might not be ready for.

* * *

Billy saw the syringe for a few moments before a blur of hazy light replaced his vision. His left cheek felt like it was expanding with the heat, stretching off his face when he turned to his right against his will. He tried to center his head, pushing himself against the weight of Regan's foot when he felt another kick strike the new bruise on the left side of his face. Billy ground his teeth to suppress a groan of weakness, afraid he might draw more blood if he bit his lower lip. He forced his eyes to open, but even that simple action proved to be excruciating. It didn't matter anyway. Reality would be distorted the way it was in his muddled mind.

He parted his mouth to speak, but only tasted tears and beads of sweat that further proved how pathetic he was.

_Have to save…her…_

The light chuckles around him disbanded, words filling his ears. He couldn't see well, but was able to hear and taste the venom saturating the voice of the monster who had stolen everything from him.

"I'll admit, Coen, I truly didn't expect you to survive this long. But you did, and that must mean something. I think you'll be more useful to me alive than dead, hmm?"

Suddenly, he felt a sharp prick piercing into the skin around his left shoulder. It was the syringe, he knew that much, but nothing else. "W-what…?"

"What is it? Well, let's just say Rebecca will be expecting two Umbrella stalkers now. One Nemesis just doesn't seem to be enough, but with two, and without her wretched knight in shining armor, let's see how she'll fare.

Those cutting words hurt more than the needle drilling deeper into a fresh gash, and instilled a nauseating desire for death. His fingers inched for the barrel of the shotgun beside him, and just when he knew he could touch the weapon, he heard it skidding across the pavement.

"Death does not always come so easily to those who want it," Regan spoke smoothly. "You disgust me as a person, but perhaps you'll be one promising bio-weapon. Like mother like son, eh?"

Billy's heart bled acid and an unnatural wave of high temperature spread from his core, thwarting the numbness he felt in his limbs. The sensation unleashed something repulsive from his soul, something he didn't know was capable of existing. He didn't know how to define it; it couldn't be put into words, only emotions that inspired him to kill, to ravage Regan with his bare hands.

And he was not one bit surprised that he welcomed the carnage instead of fearing it. The tornado of hatred spun faster inside him, the force pounding so hard against his body that he felt his chest could burst.

But as he struggled against Regan, against the fluid that was being pumped into him, he realized he could not provide an outlet for the black fury shrouding any good left inside him. As his body absorbed more and more of the toxin, it could not function as it had just minutes ago. His appendages felt liquefied; what he knew were wholes felt like parts, broken and non-functional pieces that could not come together no matter how much he willed them to. He saw Regan's cocky grin disfiguring, twisting with his aged face as if he were viewing his image from water, sinking in a depthless pool.

Sinking, sinking further and further away from the surface of reality. His eyelids became heavy, his drive for bloodshed evaporating with his vision.

"Billy? Can you hear me?"

_Rebecca? _

Was she nearby? He needed to warn her to stay away, that she would be in danger around him.

"Billy? Are you there? Come in!"

It was only when his elbow brushed against the radio that he figured out that he must have hit the button that enabled transmission. Bloody, desperate fingers crept for the radio, only to feel it slip from grasp. Regan picked up the device and tossed it somewhere into the distance, the sound of the item bouncing off the cement resonating with the hissing static.

"Isn't it a shame that only one bitch can see you-"

Regan never got to finish his sentence. Billy felt a sharp gust of wind pass over his sweaty face before Regan was knocked off of his body, the end of the syringe ripping out of his shoulder when he tumbled to the ground. He saw his savior flipping into the air before landing gracefully over Regan, her talons gleaming with a fresh sheen of blood as she bellowed, notes of sadness vibrating in her scream.

_Mom…_

He forced his eyes to adjust, his arms and legs to move, but the vertigo was too great—and all he could do was helplessly watch a dual he wanted to stop before she got hurt. He couldn't see everything, the figures just blocks of strange shapes and colors, but not even his half-conscious mind could falsely discern a gunshot splitting the tension. Billy held his breath, hoping against what he already knew when Josephine's bawl began to sound like a resignation of pain. Something cold, hard and slimy dropped into his open palm, and when he folded his fingers over it, a violent storm of sorrow formed. The clasp of the bracelet was broken, the once solid gem inserted within the heart-shaped frame no longer smooth to the touch. Fragments of the stone rubbed away when he applied more pressure over the sticky bracelet.

Blood had been released on to the bangle. He couldn't see it, but knew Josephine was bleeding as droplets of warm, viscous liquid dripped on to his forearm from above.

_Stop…please…_

He heard the gun reloading and immediately tried to warn his mother, but only a moan drier than his parched mouth escaped through his lips.

But, a guttural, human growl gave him a tiny spark of hope that things were going in their favor. His sense of sight was starting to fail him completely, but he fought to stay awake to keep his faith in Josephine's victory burning. The grasp over the bracelet tightened, the broken shards pinching his skin as his knuckles trembled from the strain of keeping himself conscious. The gunshot he expected to hear never came, and instead, footsteps-retreating footsteps- echoed, eventually fading, finally disappearing altogether.

He didn't know what had happened, but suddenly felt the same harmony he hadn't experienced since he was a young boy, back when he was a happy child with two loving parents showering him with affection that knew no limits. A touch alien to his skin, but familiar to his heart was pressed against his cheek, stifling all the instabilities inside him. In his mind, he saw the beautiful face of Josephine Marie Coen, the one he remembered from the years before his father's death. Her shoulder-length brown hair accented her diamond-shaped face, soft bangs just barely touching blue eyes that sparkled like clear water. She had full, shapely lips, often colored in different shades of red. Billy liked to remember her with lipstick, because when she kissed him, the impression of her love would remain, reminding him that her warmth and tenderness were close even when she couldn't be.

It didn't matter that she no longer looked like the picture in his mind. The same Josephine Marie Coen he had gotten along with was here with him now, her radiant soul, before it became clouded with greed and power, was alive again, a beacon welcoming him home.

And for the first time in twenty years, he felt like he was home.

With unsteady fingers, he pocketed the broken bracelet with great difficulty before reaching to feel the hand against his cheek. He had no voice to express what he wanted her to hear, but when she squeezed his palm with gentleness he had expected, he just knew she comprehended everything. He supposed the old saying was right…mothers do always know all.

"Billy!"

_Rebecca…? _

He heard her yell his name again, this time with panic surging in her call. Josephine's grip over his hand increased, and Billy understood it as a gesture of good-bye. She didn't want to cling on to the life she had now anymore, but Billy wasn't sure if _he_ was ready to let her go.

But when the shots came, the bullets riddling her tattered body, he had no choice but to accept that this was for the best. She would finally find the peace she had been looking for, and he would too once he had the chance to tell Rebecca to kill him before he turned into something unstoppable.

Beads of cool liquid splattered on him, slowly at first, and then much quicker, the tiny droplets firing like darts. _Rain, _he thought with a smile he couldn't form. In the mind he possessed when he was three, the sky was splitting to release the downpour, and at the same time, good souls would pass through the chasm to reach Heaven before the rain ceased and the sky became whole again. Childish yes, but he and Josephine both agreed that it was a brilliant idea twenty-three years ago.

The grasp over his hand was loosening with each jolt of her body, each flash of gunfire.

And when she finally let go of him, he was able to do the same for her.

_Mom, you better make it before the sky closes…_

Billy no longer fought sleep.

* * *

A/N: I think this is the most depressing chapter I've ever written… So, Josephine is gone and Billy is now infected, and even worse, Rebecca had no idea what she'd done. Quite the mess, but it'll get cleaned up by the end of the story, I promise! Also, the T-JCCC203 is a form of the T-Virus, and does appear in the RE universe. More information about it can be found at the RE Wiki. The T-JCC203 was administered to a cancer patient, which was where I got the idea for Josephine's condition.

Thanks so much as usual for reading and supporting this story. I realized it's been over a year since I first started this story, and it has ventured into areas I never would have thought about exploring mostly because of you guys, the readers! Thank you!


	24. Chapter 24

Daylight

**Tuesday, September 29th, night**

Pain. A gift or a curse? Whichever it was, one thing was for certain, and that was life and pain have, and will always continue to coexist.

Billy regained conscious to that thought, but kept his eyes closed as he considered the idea some more. He was alive, he knew that much because he still had the mental capacity to think, but no emotions came with the contemplation. He felt like he had just awoken from a frozen slumber, his body numb and weak, suspended in a sub-zero coma, but the memories were slowly being thwarted from the icy barrier that still kept the pain solidified. His mind began to collect the events that had transpired before he passed out, but tormenting sensations he had expected to spill with the recollections never came. And he wasn't even alarmed, at all.

"Billy?" a voiced called out to him, a touch too excitedly.

A few seconds later, a cold but gentle hand met his left cheek, the thumb rubbing against a bruise he knew existed only from memory, not sense.

"Billy? Can you hear me?" the voice tried again.

"Yeah…" he replied, opening his eyes to the welcoming sight of a recognizable face. He was in the hotel room again, lying on the bed that was farther from the window. His nose detected a scent that was too familiar, but it had never been this strong, even when he was standing right beside her. It took him a moment to realize that the scent came from the pillows, the ones Rebecca had been using; and a beat after that, he accepted with indifference that his heightened sense of smell was most likely attributed to the poison in his body.

"Billy," the voice repeated, much softer this time. "I didn't know when you were going to wake up. Are you all right?"

Rebecca sat by the edge of the bed, her hand still stroking his cheek as the light muscles around her eyes tried to suppress tears of relief. He forced a smile to display the appreciation he didn't feel and wondered how long he had been out for.

As if reading his mind, Rebecca answered, "You were unconscious about an hour now. Luckily, I was able to find some medical supplies here so I've cleaned most of your visible wounds, but I need to know where else you're hurting. It's very important that we treat the more serious injuries first."

"An hour?" That was it? It certainly felt much longer, more like days.

Rebecca nodded, moving her palms to his shoulders. "Do you remember what happened? You were fighting this bizarre creature. It was very dark. I couldn't tell what was going on, but that monster was hovering over you, as if it was about to kill you, but I managed to find you in time and stop that creature."

"You're very brave." Billy let out a dry chuckle, purposely leaving out the most important detail about that 'monster.' He had lost any hints of compassion and sympathy, but the ability to make decisions was still retained; he could still tell apart right from wrong, and telling Rebecca that she had killed not a monster but his mother, was the wrong thing to do, at least now. She had acted out of selflessness, demonstrated bravery that would have put veteran soldiers to shame. This would be a secret he would have to take with him to his early grave.

Rebecca ignored the compliment, her soft features melting away to be replaced by a stern look. "Why did you run off by yourself? You could have died!"

"Won't happen again," he muttered to himself. Because he wouldn't have the chance to let it happen again. Then to Rebecca, "How did you manage to me up here anyway?"

She rolled her eyes and the tender smile returned. It didn't take much to diffuse her anger sometimes. "It took me awhile, but I was finally able to drag you up here."

"With _those _arms?"

Rebecca chuckled. "Hey! I was really worried and afraid. Kinda found strength from that. Besides, I didn't do all the work. You were zoning in and out, and somehow still remembered how to limp."

"I see. Don't remember that part."

"You didn't answer my question earlier. Where else are you hurting?"

"Nowhere…" Billy sighed, thinking about how to explain the truth he had no trouble grasping, but was hesitant on admitting. He was infected, and had no trouble swallowing the simplicity of the fact, but he couldn't trust Rebecca to see the situation in the same way. Even as his mind raced to find the right choice of words that would help facilitate the revelation, he could see it in Rebecca's eyes that she was trying to deny his statement, because it couldn't be, and wasn't possible for a normal human to say that under these conditions.

She shook her head, the smile diminishing with the earlier mirth in her gaze. "B-billy, you don't have to keep playing the hero. J-just tell me where you're hurting…and we'll take care of it, _together,_" she emphasized.

"I said nowhere," he replied, the assurance of his words punctuated by his stern tone. He didn't miss the flash of hurt that crossed Rebecca's face, but before he could apologize, she had already recovered and was tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears, which kept the idle hands she withdrew from his shoulders, active. "Rebecca, I didn't mean it like—"

"It's fine," she responded curtly, trying to mask the sting of his harsh reaction with coolness she couldn't quite pull off. "Let me know if you change your mind. You should get some rest before-"

She was about to stand but he pushed his arm forward, gently brushing the handgun tucked against his waistband, and caught her wrist, urging her to sit back down to give him the chance to explain himself. She looked at him expectantly, and when he felt he had her attention, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the map he had been drawing on. He gripped it tightly, acknowledging that they could no longer leave together, before handing the plans of escape to her. "When you were asleep earlier, I was mapping the quickest route to the dock. This should be useful to you…"

She held the map in her hands but didn't bother looking at the lines he had traced. Her body was so still that it wasn't difficult to notice the paper shaking in her grasp, her breaths growing rougher. Finding that there would be no moment more suitable than this one, he began, "When I was out there before…I bumped into Regan. When I was trying to ward off…" He paused before he could let himself slip. "…the monster, Regan injected me with something. I don't know what, most likely the T-Virus, or a strain of the virus, but I do know I'm infected. It's slowly consuming me, I know it. I don't feel any pain…I don't feel anything. I'm turning into one of _them_, I know it…because I can feel _that._"

The map slid from her hands as if an invisible force had swept it away. Her lips quivered; she was trying to speak but he found her inability to do so to say so much more than whatever sentence she was trying to string together. Finally, she simply shook her head in denial, but then bowed her head and folded a palm over her eyes, her shoulders rocking lightly as a sensation he could no longer experience took over her.

Billy waited, and thought about what could ease the situation that neither of them could have prevented. When he heard her weep, he felt he should reach out and embrace her, whisper empty consolations that he knew she wouldn't buy, but reason was still anchored to his mind, and it told him that this was not the time to bond. It would only make things harder than they would have to be. Instead, he took another approach, the right one.

"Rebecca…there's something I need you to do…something you've done plenty of times before…"

He took her free hand into his and gently slid his handgun- loaded- into her palm and wrapped her fingers over the weapon. "You won't have to worry about hurting me...I probably won't even feel anything," he encouraged.

The gun quaked in her clutch, wavering with her hesitation, but as the fingers began to move toward positions she was more than used to, he closed his eyes and waited for the shot.

It rang, past him, over him, striking the wall behind the bed.

He looked up at her and found her sniffling to dry her tears, her cheeks flushed.

"You won't, but I will," she stated smoothly, looking at the gun with disgust.

"You're going to regret this," he warned.

"Am I? Let me decide that for myself," she challenged, all hints of sadness disbelief banding to mold strength.

"Rebecca, listen-"

"Coen, you bastard," she snapped hotly, winning an unexpected response from him. It was the first real pang of surprise, of anything, since the infection.

She opened his eyes to a side he had never seen before, a side he had never expected to see, but here it was-Rebecca Chambers, the shy and supportive medic playing the role she had only speculated until now. The hot-tempered, bossy, and oh-so very attractive attitude he knew was resting dormant in that carefree and innocent shell was finally unleashed, and maybe now he could die feeling he had had accomplished a little more than he had intended to.

A few successive blinks sent tears smudging around eyes that were wide with anger, anger so tense and alive that he could almost feel the heat of it crawling over his cold skin. "No, you listen! How selfish of you to ask me to do this when you know I can't. If you're ready to go, why couldn't you take yourown life?" With that, she chucked the gun at the wall behind him. Ironically, it slid from the broken wallpaper and landed in his hand again, returned to the owner who had thought one bullet was the solution to everything.

He curled his index finger around the trigger, running the nail over the paint. "Because you would have stopped me."

"Can you blame me? We-"

This time, he felt it was necessary to interrupt. "But there is no _we,_ Rebecca. From here on out, it's just _you_."

Her hands balled into fists, her fingers digging into her palms as if to help suppress her emotions from making their way toward her face. "How could you be so indifferent about this, like you don't want to live, or at least try to? How can you just give up so easily?"

"It's not my intention, but don't you see? Already, I'm not the same Billy you knew. He's…" He took a breath, wishing it was his last one. Prolonging what should be severed didn't faze him, but it affected Rebecca and what she needed to finish without him. "I don't even know where he is anymore, and in God knows how long, you probably can't even recognize what you see now anymore."

She watched his hand carefully, her gaze so hard that he was almost convinced she could telepathically disconnect the gun from his fingers. "Don't you dare," she whispered.

"The sooner you let go, the better." He had learned that already.

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

Already sensing that he was going to raise the gun to his temple, she slapped his hand back, the unforeseen amount of power she possessed within the deceiving limb stunning them both to a stupor. He could read her shock. Fine or weak, he wasn't an easy person to overpower, but he just proved that he had fallen over the latter end of the spectrum from hardly any effort exerted by Rebecca. Her glances shifted from his hand to her own. A gasp expelled through her parted lips as she raised her palm to cover her mouth, to hide the shock she didn't know how else to conceal. Billy looked away and stared at the gun that had fallen out of his hand. It never occurred to him just how much one bullet could spare.

Eventually, her fingers latched on to his shoulders, her upper body mounting over his, and with a blink, the hard-glass look in her eyes cracked easily like eggshells. "Because I have reasons, more than what I'm willing to admit," she cried with startling speed, as if those were the final words he would ever hear her say, as if those were the words that meant the most most, that she had to get in no matter what.

She had purposely left her confession ambiguous, but it wasn't hard to detect what she was trying to hide, what she wasn't ready to fully disclose. All it took was her confirmation to change everything, and nothing at once. The virus stifled the excitement he had once dreamed of experiencing, because in more ways than one, her feelings were requited. At first, it had all been about the physical and boosting his ego. He was fresh out of prison, hadn't been involved with a woman for months, and there she was—available, a pretty little thing, somewhat of a ditz, completely dependent upon him. It wasn't in his nature to ignore a damsel in distress, especially an attractive one, but saving Rebecca had caused him to abandon principles he had always held on to. He had never believed in commitment, had never considered seeing the same woman for more than three nights, experiencing more than just having his immediate sexual needs fulfilled. But Rebecca…over the span of a few hours, had made him see that stability was capable of existing, but came with a hefty price that she wasn't afraid to pay. He was closer to a new life than he'd thought, but he went back again to rescue her, ditching his principles for the second time, and that had to mean something right?

It had at one point, to a man he was starting to feel sorry for.

"Maybe you do, but they don't matter now. Nothing will change."

Hope was still evident in her voice, eyes, and the shadow of a smile he didn't want to see. "If that's what you believe, then nothing will change."

To his ears, the words suddenly sounded like a fading vibrato. His eyelids grew heavy again as a surge of stifling heat tumbled through his body like a landslide. Rebecca's hands felt noticeably colder, and he wasn't the only who discovered the sudden progression of the virus.

"Billy? What's going on?"

He ignored her question, and using the last few ounces of energy that had not been swallowed by the internal fire, he muttered, "Then tell me…if you believe hard enough, will Brad and the rest of your team come back?"

Satisfied with her bewildered reaction, he prayed that she would find the strength to shoot him, because if he were to wake up again, he didn't know what he would become.

* * *

Regan had sworn he would never face weakness or humiliation again, but tonight, he experienced both—at the same time, at the same place, at the pinnacle of his victory before the base toppled. But he couldn't be buried beneath the mess for long. The job wasn't over yet, and he couldn't spend all his time regretting what he couldn't change. He gripped his injured arm, letting the pressure of his hold soothe the pulsating burns. He made the mistake of putting too much faith into his project and never thought that somewhere in her human heart, there was something still human about her that made her recognize the person who should have been erased from her memories. But he had failed in that regard too.

Rain continued to dance on the awning above him, the rhythmic tempo oddly keeping his thoughts leveled. He eventually had to make his way to the final site of his mission to plant the explosives in the last lab in the city, but first, he needed to treat the injury—the three long, but thankfully not deep marks that ran across his arm. Josephine's claw had torn through the fabric of the trench coat, leaving the wounds exposed to risks of infection.

Infection.

He initially feared it when he first felt the pain shoot up the limb, but now, he realized what he should have comprehended earlier. There was no point in worrying. If he was infected, then there wasn't a damn thing he could do besides finishing his job before the toxin took over. There was no cure, at least not one that he knew of. The developers and researchers at Umbrella were so absorbed in their experiments that they forgot to create the antidote to their poison. They all believed there would be time to look into one after the experiments were finished, but the corporation did not expect _this _to happen.

The searing pain finally subsided to tolerable, aching throbs. Letting go of his arm, Regan pulled out the syringe he had used earlier from his pocket. He had only injected about three-quarters of the substance into Coen. His mental notes told him that the quantity was enough to infect, but the incubation period would be lengthened. To what extent, he didn't know. It was different from person to person, but that didn't quite matter because the results would still be devastating whether Coen's body accepted or rejected the greatest magnitude of the virus's effects.

Though he didn't know where Coen was right now, he was certain that he hadn't seen the last of him—but he hoped the rookie medic would have long been taken care of when they faced each other again.

As for Josephine, he wasn't sure where the bitch was now, but it didn't matter because she was no longer a player in this play. More like a playgoer whose presence didn't contribute to anything. The stage was set for a far more impressive appearance, and he would have his front-row seat to a performance that would not disappoint.

* * *

**Wednesday, September 30th, early morning**

Her futile pleas and cries were not heard, except by her own ears. Rebecca had no choice but to accept that the virus was taking its malicious course throughout her partner's body, leaving a dreadful fever in its wake. There were no visible and outward symptoms yet, but the upsetting warmth emitting from his skin revealed that other signs, far deadlier, were probably not far from emergence. She wasn't trained for this. An unnatural fever like this could not be contained by simply popping an aspirin into his mouth. She had a great wealth of medical knowledge, but nothing in that pool of information offered her a solution. She didn't know anything about the virus—how it was structured, how it worked, killed. Not even the damn incubation period.

_So now what? Give up?_

It seemed like the most reasonable thing to do, and Billy had thought so too. He had even suggested that she shouldn't waste her time anymore, because time was the most valuable necessity at the moment. From now on, they would only be losing time, only if it wasn't stolen first. And with each second that ticked by, her escape was in danger of being jeopardized, and Billy's condition was worsening. A mask of tranquility over his face hid the true anguish that was brewing beneath. He said he felt no pain, that a part of him had already died. She didn't want to believe it at first, but then he spoke without reservation, his chilling words made her more fearful of what's to come than what had been lost. A part of her still supposed that what was gone could still be found, but how could she prepare herself to face what she didn't know to expect?

Billy had thrown her the key that would set her free, but she just couldn't will herself to leave.

Despite her own conviction to stay, her grip over the Samurai Edge grew steadier, the muzzle aimed more accurately at its target on the bed. She wondered if she'd be able to pull the trigger when the time came for her to choose between kill or be killed. It was a difficult decision made only harder with all this _time _to think while she waited. For what? She didn't know. God, she certainly wasn't waiting for him to change, but maybe for _something _to change. But, realistically, if she didn't do anything, what could possibly change?

But then again, what could she do? She was stuck in this cruel loop, and finding a way to break the cycle was starting to prove to be the hardest challenge she ever faced, most likely due to the fact that there wasn't a way to disengage the vicious circle.

Rebecca looked at her S.T.A.R.S.-issue handgun, as if it could provide her answers that she couldn't find anywhere else. Her weapon, like Billy's, was loaded, and that seemed to be her only hint for what she should do. Irons was the one who presented the gun to her when she made Bravo, and the moment she accepted it, she swore that she would only use it to protect. But in this case, protecting herself just didn't seem to justify anything.

_Irons…_

Thinking about the man triggered a memory. She had last seen him at the police department, where she had discovered items she thought to be critical in Sherry's backpack. Documents. She was about to read the documents she had found before a gunshot distracted her.

_And then the files in Sherry's lunchbox…_

Excitement and anxiety tore at her heart, but when she dropped the Samurai Edge on the bed she was sitting on, across from Billy's, relief bonded the pieces. Maybe, just maybe, there was some clue to help her turn things around, face a more acceptable alternative than the one she had no choice but to recognize. Fingers quickly unzipped the pouch around her waist and pulled out the black metal box, its access sealed with a lock that required four digits. Setting the box next to the gun, she retrieved the folded documents from the pouch next, and finally, the manila folder from her pocket. Smoothing out all the creased files, the childish drawing of the sun on the manila folder made her recall 'Daylight,' a keyword that was addressed many times in the letter from Greg Mueller to William Birkin. Deciding to open that folder first, she pulled out the contents, discarding the envelope on the floor.

She nearly lost her hold on the papers, her heartbeats feeling like ping-pong balls ricocheting off rapid paddles. Suddenly, they started feeling like beats of fear; fear that this was too good to be true, that the answers were nothing but false hope to disguise a lie, which for some reason, she felt like she deserved more than this miraculous gift. But not Billy. No, _he _deserved this, this elixir of life that was actually cable of being found. Her hands went to the bonded documents next. If what she had read was true, then a new trail would be opening up for her. If she followed it and it was a dead end—

-but it wasn't.

The words on the page didn't seem important; it was the four digits. Her new lucky numbers if they actually worked.

"Four…five…two…one…" she muttered, her fingers spinning the dial. She didn't exhale until she heard the welcoming _click _, felt internal mechanisms moving to dislodge the lock.

Lifting the cover, Rebecca found three bottles sitting inside the box; two filled and one empty. She carefully took them out; under the light, one bottle contained a watery substance, pale blue in color, labeled **T-Blood** on the cap; the other bottle contained fluid that was chunkier in texture, white, reminding Rebecca of glue she had used when she was about six or seven. The label was at the side of the bottle; **P-Base.**

The first pile of information she found were directions on how to make Daylight, which, according to the notes were written most likely by Mueller, was a vaccine for the T-Virus. Daylight required three ingredients: T-Blood, P-Base, and V-Poison. She had two of the three.

Two of the three.

Despite impossibility, she checked the small box again just to make sure there was nothing else inside. Nothing. Not even a spot of dust.

Her excitement wavered like a lit candlestick upon a windowsill on a breezy night. It would only take one gust to extinguish the fragile flame, one missing piece to shatter the whole of her hope.

She read the memo attached to the directions, hoping to find a new lead. The message was purposefully kept vague, but Rebecca was able to pick up on a few critical points. Apparently, Mueller had sent the information about the vaccine to Birkin because both of their researches were being threatened. Birkin, having no safe place to store the valuable discovery, must have decided to have Sherry hold on to what he was given until he found the time to synthesize the antidote. The vaccine was to be used as leverage against Umbrella in order to buy more time for the scientists to complete their works, but it didn't seem like either one of them had the chance to culture the vaccine. It _was _possible. All she needed was a magnetic stirrer and an incubator along with the three ingredients.

With a frustrated sigh, she went back to the other set of notes, which discussed the three components in more details. Skipping over the information for the T-Blood and P-Base for the sake of saving time, her eyes immediately scanned the section about the V-Poison. One line held her interest.

"A catalyst extracted from infected and mutated wasps or bees…"

The horrifying memory of the encounter at the train station flashed through her mind; and when it faded, she realized it was going to be a be memory she would have to relive again, in person, alone. More of those impossible wasps could be waiting for her down in the subway station, but it was a risk she was going to have to take. The extraction might not even work, but doing something was better than doing nothing, and not to mention, her luck was starting to look up again.

She cast one more look at Billy's lifeless body before storing the bottles back into the box. The box, along with the directions she needed was tucked into her fanny pack before she holstered her machine gun. Taking the shotgun was given a moment's thought, but figuring that it would be best to travel light, she decided against it. Rebecca wasn't planning on contributing to the damage reports. She just wanted to get the V-Poison, and then somehow locate a stirrer and an incubator to synthesize the vaccine, and then get the hell out.

Which brought up another question she hadn't considered.

Where was she going to find the stirrer and incubator?

The underground Umbrella laboratory she, Jill and Brad had tried to infiltrate was the only place she could think of that would offer both the stirrer and the special incubator, which was specially customized by the Umbrella Corporation. Whether it was still in the same state she had last seen—locked—she didn't know, and wouldn't know unless she went back.

"The station…then the lab…" she told herself out loud, at the same time calculating how much time the entire expedition would take.

It wasn't a number she was fond of, but she figured the sooner she got out, the more likely that number would be reduced.

Rebecca double-checked to make sure she had everything she needed and then addressed Billy to remind the both of them that there was hope.

"No…Brad and might team will never come back. But, if I had Daylight, I could have saved them…"

_There is no need for an Umbrella in the Daylight._

That line, in the letter from Mueller to Birkin, no longer sounded strange. Finally understanding the real meaning of that line made her smile.

And she carried the smile until she pelted down the stairs and out of the inn, looking for the road that would lead her back to Ennerdale Station.

* * *

A/N: It's been so long since Rebecca and Billy found the box that stored the ingredients for Daylight. I'm not even sure you guys remember or not, but the box was found in Sherry's book bag at the police station, and the other documents were discovered at her school. Again, the idea of Daylight was taken from Resident Evil Outbreak, and it is a vaccine for the T-Virus, so there is hope for Billy!

Thanks for reading everyone! I'll try to keep up with the updates, but I started classes again, so I'm desperately hoping that they won't interfere with the updates. Thanks again for reading and reviewing!


	25. Chapter 25

Void

Billy stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He didn't know how long he'd been walking, couldn't even remember when he had started, but he did know he was feeling the exhaustion of a very long trek. He didn't even know why he was still going. The road ahead seemed endless, a path leading to an unknown destination. There were no routes that branched from the linear direction he was following. Rusty metal bars ran parallel, trapping him in between, forcing him to continue on the course that could very well take him back to where he started—wherever that was. Complete and daunting darkness swallowed every inch around him. It didn't make any sense that he was still able to see, but then again, nothing right now did. Lifting his right foot and then the left until both resumed the tiresome walk, he continued moving soundlessly across the black plane, silently cursing the fact that the Magnum in his hand did not carry the weight of ammunition to end his life.

He could have, and should have, discarded the useless weapon, but something else was dictating his thoughts, telling him that he should hold on to it, that it had a purpose.

"Where am I going?" he murmured, letting his feet drag down the hall. He squinted past the bars on either side of him but found nothing different than what he was already facing.

Overwhelmed with lost hope, he moved with his head bowed, his eyes on his feet shuffling through the obscurity, his mind registering anything else but what his sense of sight fed it.

Where was Travis? Devin? Bruce? Nathan? Jeff? The rest of his unit? Were they eagerly searching for him like he was for them? Were they also trapped in this labyrinth, this twisted layout that could only be conceived by a brilliant but psychotic person?

Where was Rebecca? Was she okay?

That thought sent a shock of uneasiness straight to his core. Rebecca…he was wondering about her whereabouts and her safety, but he didn't know who she was. He didn't even know of a Rebecca—had never met a single Rebecca in his life, never seen one. Well, there was one Rebecca who came to mind. Long, flowing black hair, blue eyes, a gentle smile—she looked like an animated porcelain doll imported from France. They were in the same third grade class but had never spoken to each other, and so he doubted that she was significant enough for him to give a damn about. He truly didn't know anyone else by that name…

"Rebecca? Rebecca who?" he whispered, cycling through all the insignificant women with whom he'd cross paths on lonely evenings.

"Chambers," an airy voice echoed down the hall, cutting his thoughts.

"Chambers? Who the hell is Rebecca Chambers?" he asked back, forgetting that he should be more interested in questioning the source of the voice and not the identity of a stranger.

He stopped to wait for an answer but only met silence in his anticipation for another lead. He threw his hands into the air and let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, are going to answer me?"

Silence.

Great. He felt like an overgrown specimen lab rat stuck in a maze, except this one had no winding passages, making it –ironically—more difficult to escape. At least most mazes had exits, but this—he didn't even want to think how much further he had to go before freedom would be gained. When he prepared to walk again, something about the bars on his right caught his sight. Thick, crimson liquid smeared over the rust, the droplets trickling to the void that absorbed them. Finally, some distinction.

His pulse quickened and his feet began to move with more fervor. He soon broke into a run and noticed that the thin, tarnished columns that trapped him were bloodier the further down he ran. The rust on the bars could no longer be seen; all that spiraled down the rods was blood, blood that reeked of decay and copper and death. The rank smell didn't bother him in the slightest but acknowledging that discovery certainly did. What was happening to him?

A shadowy silhouette ahead ceased his movements, and realizing that he was not going to advance toward it, the mysterious entity began walking toward him like a two-dimensional character projecting to life. Billy didn't feel threatened in its presence. Perhaps it was because the figure was starting to materialize into a woman—a young lady who was a head shorter than him with soft feminine curves. Even before he saw her face, he got the sense that she was youthful, but seeing her features confirmed his assumption. The young woman stopped a few feet away from him and pierced his eyes with her wide green ones, communicating ambivalence through her soulful gaze. Her short hair and bangs framed her heart-shaped face well but it reminded him of haircuts young kids usually had. She looked about eighteen, maybe seventeen, and the one reason why he didn't guess any younger was because she was wearing a S.T.A.R.S.-issue uniform—green cargo pants, a white vest over an olive-colored tee. He didn't need to study her attire more than once to realize that she was a field medic. Billy spotted her holster at her side but it was empty. Checking her hands, he found she wasn't carrying a weapon. She was unarmed.

"Lieutenant Coen," she breathed out, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Shit. Who was this woman? She certainly knew him, or at least had some idea of who he was but he knew nothing about her.

"How do you know me?"

She didn't reply, and instead, looked at the feet; her shoulders slumped in a way that was able to channel her disappointment into Billy.

Billy decided to change the subject. After all, there were more important matters that needed to be addressed first. "Hey, do you know where we are? How did we end up here and you know a way out?"

She still did not give him a response, didn't even lift her head to acknowledge his questions. He was at a loss about what to do or say but knew that he had to get through to her for both their sakes. He didn't want to be judgmental but his ego had already convinced him that she needed his protection. With a sigh, he decided to be more assertive this time. Just when he reached over to touch her shoulder, more shadowy silhouettes formed behind her. He counted six tall figures with human outlines, but their bodies possessed no shapes, wavering behind the woman like inky waterfalls.

Before he could warn her of the potential danger, one of the figures spoke—his voice resonating authority and insistence. "Rebecca, you must arrest him."

Rebecca? Was this Rebecca Chambers?

Billy frowned. There had to be some mistake. He hadn't done anything wrong, not yet anyway. "Rebecca…? What the hell is he talking about?"

She didn't answer him but she didn't show any hints of obeying the order she had just been given either.

"Kill them, before it's too late," another voice behind him interrupted, his tone equally forceful and strict.

Billy turned around and was startled to find Samuel Regan, his commander, standing despite the numerous injuries that were visible through the tears in his navy trench coat. He noticed gunshot wounds right away, two on his right thigh and one on his left arm, but the man was still sane and strong enough to hold his own. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

"Don't make me repeat it, Coen. Kill them before they kill you," Regan ordered again, walking to stand beside him.

Billy shook his head. He was glad to see a familiar face in the midst of all the confusion but Regan was only building the haze he wanted to clear. "I don't understand. Who are they? Where are WE?"

"Rebecca. Arrest him. He's a murderer. Now," a second figure behind Rebecca interjected.

Blistering heat amplified and began to envelope his body. Who was this, this nobody, accusing him of being a murderer? He had harmed a few people out of pure defense, but he had never once intentionally or unintentionally killed someone. He had dedicated his life to protecting not just people but his entire country, this fucker included.

"You see what I mean? Go on, shoot them!" Regan encouraged, volume growing in his voice.

The Magnum in Billy's hand suddenly grew heavier. He looked down and saw that all the rounds were chambered. Six rounds for six targets.

"Murderer…"

"Murderer!"

"Murderer."

All six figures began chanting their accusations like a mantra. The hand with the weapon shook only once before he lifted it. He slid into his shooting pose, his anger spitting spiraling streaks of fire into his skin. He wanted the burning to stop, and there was not a shadow of a doubt that the only way for that to happen was if he annihilated the speakers of the lies.

The Magnum jumped in his hands as the rounds left the gun, propelling through each black outline with an airless whoosh. The humanoid shapes disbanded, the dark traces that kept their structures lined joining the void again. When he lowered his Magnum—ammunition depleted—shiny silver objects fell beside Rebecca's feet at a speed that resisted the natural laws of physics. Despite the weight of the objects which now revealed to be Berettas, the guns descended like floating feathers, finally hitting the ground with resonances that did not echo its deceitful mass. Loud clanks, like metal against glass, reverberated around them, yet Rebecca did not even budge.

Studying the guns laid at rest, Billy realized that they were S.T.A.R.S.-issue Samurai Edges, specifically customized for the rescue squad. He counted six in total, perfect matching the number of the phantom wielders. Panic started to drown his fury but he quickly shook it off. Now was no time for regrets. He told himself that he did what he had to and should feel more confident about his action, especially since it had been approved by Regan, the man he respected and looked up to since his first week in the Marines.

"Good," Regan complimented. "Let's go."

Go where? He still didn't know but was convinced that Regan knew the way.

Nodding, he grabbed Rebecca's wrist firmly. She finally looked up, her cheeks wet with tears that were still being released from her eyes. Billy was shocked by her reaction, but assumed it was from either fear or shock. He didn't, however, expect to hear her next words leaving her mouth with a tearful wail that hurt his heart.

"What have you done?" she whimpered, her arm now starting to shake in his grasp."Y-you killed them."

"They were threats," he tried to reason, but it was hard to tell her that when he didn't quite fully believe his own remark.

She shook her head, bangs sticking to her eyes. "No, they were not. Y-you, Lieutenant Coen, you're the murderer…" Her arm shook harder but it was no longer from fright. She was trying to fight his grip and he could feel the rising tension beneath the skin, tension that was aimed at him. "Now, let me GO!"

She didn't even give him an option. With strength she couldn't possibly be capable of bearing, she wrested his fingers from her wrist before sending his body back with a side kick, causing him to regain balance on one knee. Tarnishing his pride, Billy let out a gasp of shock that he couldn't suppress and found a furious Rebecca glowering down at him. She ground her teeth, her fingers curling into her palms as the knuckles turned whiter than her already pale skin.

"Don't you touch me," she seethed, as if she was talking to the most despicable being in existence.

"Rebecca-" he croaked, suddenly feeling more fearful than being trapped in this unknown, sick dungeon.

"Shut up!" she screamed, the tears dripping with the two syllables that he obeyed, but not by choice. She exhaled deeply, trying to calm herself down. When she succeeded half way, Rebecca took two wobbling steps back and bit her lower lip to fight back more tears. "Just…just stay away from me," she whispered, pleaded.

Billy stood up slowly and nodded to show that he was going to satisfy her request. "A-all right, just…calm down." He put up his hands and also took two steps back, demonstrating that he was not intent on hurting her. He turned around to shoot Regan a questioning look, hoping that he would know why this strange girl was freaking out, but his sweat turned cold when he found that Regan was no longer there. He did a full three-sixty but the man wasn't anywhere. It was like he had disappeared into thin air, or had never existed to begin with; he didn't know which scenario scared him more. The calmness he was trying to hold up until now was slowly beginning to fracture, wounding his mind and sanity.

"Regan!" he yelled, only to have the echoes of his voice thrown right back at him.

"Billy," a voice so familiar whispered. The two syllables sent shivers down his spine, the sadness uttered with his name absorbed by his heart. He didn't need to turn around to see the caller of his name, the woman who had given him everything and then left him with nothing.

"Mom," he released with a strained gasp. She was always so confident, so sure of herself. He had never heard her this vulnerable, weak, desperate.

"Billy…honey," she added affectionately, her voice shaking, almost bordering hysteria, "what have you done?"

"What do you mean? I-I haven't done anything…" he tried to deny, suppress the guilt for making Rebecca cry and fear him, for potentially having killed a crew of innocent and good men.

All traces of sorrow suddenly vanished from Rebecca's face. Her pout curved into a sinister grin, and her eyes had dried to a glare with a hard edge. He did not like the new transition at all. There was almost a crazed look in her brilliant pupils, shedding any purity they had once radiated. "Tell me how it feels, Billy. Only then you'll know how much I'm hurting."

Before he could even question what she meant, Rebecca zipped past his side, but not before he noticed a knife clenched in her right hand. He spun around and let out a voiceless scream, the shape of his mouth matching the petrified contours of his mother's, the size of her eyes expanding and then shrinking until the long lashes fell over both lids, sealing her sight, permanently. Streams of blood cascaded from her chest, on to the blade that was pierced within, and then soaked Rebecca's small hands. Tiny hands, childlike hands, not hands belonging to a killer.

Rebecca plunged the knife further into the victim's chest, the blood now spurting like a wild geyser. "I'll never forgive you for what you've done, Billy. If I could do more, I would."

The grin faded, and pain was suddenly reflected in her eyes. Whether she was showing remorse for what she did or grieving over what he'd done, Billy didn't know, and he didn't care either. Thoughts of stabbing Rebecca with the very knife that just took his mother's life swam in his mind, but he just couldn't bring those nasty ideas to fruition. The tears forming around his eyes felt like drops of acid melting into his skin, the stinging sensation crawling over him, making him feel as if a rug of pins had just unfurled itself on top of his body. He brought the Magnum to his head and prayed—begged—for the weapon to automatically reload itself so he could put an end to this nonsensical suffering, but the gun clicked empty. Finding his voice again, he unleashed a splitting scream he couldn't even recognize as his own and threw the Magnum on to the ground with almost enough force to crack it in half.

Knees experiencing lightness that made him fear his legs had somehow been amputated, he collapsed on to the cold, black earth, catching his fall with his palms that also felt non-existent. The dark, depthless terrain beneath him began to shake, the bars on either side of him quaking too as they began meeting each other. He understood right away that there would be no escape. This would be his end, these were his final moments, and the only thing he could appreciate was that it was going to be over very soon. He had inadvertently bargained away his mother's life for six souls that did not matter to him, and for that, he deserved worse than what he was going to get.

"Oh it's much more than that, Billy," he heard Rebecca whispering. He didn't know how this psycho was reading his thoughts, but it just did not matter anymore.

The boundaries surrounding him rattled him in a way that made him feel like an egg in the midst of an earthquake, but damn it, he couldn't wait till he cracked. Glancing up, he saw that the bars were less than two feet away from connecting. Closing his eyes to prepare for the impact, the landing beneath him shattered, and he felt himself caught in a free-fall, with nothing suspending him, nothing breaking his descent until—

Billy didn't know what falling toward death was like, but he did know it wasn't supposed to feel like this, like he was lying on a soft mattress, a soft _hot _mattress that seemed to be absorbing the rising temperature that knew no mercy. He opened one eye first, wanting to make sure he wanted to fully see what the environment around him was like. It took him a few moments to realize he was in a bedroom, and perhaps minutes to remember how he had gotten here to begin with. He couldn't recall everything, the memories before the argument he had with Rebecca mostly just a colorless blur. He would like to think that the quarrel he had with Rebecca had spared his life, but in reality, it was simply prolonging its decay, lengthening both the physical and mental discomfort—and now guilt.

He was now aware that the frightening experience was just a dream, or maybe a hallucination, but it felt like neither because there was too much truth in what he had just went through. He couldn't remember the individual components that brought upon this holistic manifestation, but the immense guilt that had eaten him before now came back to finish devouring his soul, and that was something no effects of _any _virus or illness could dispel from his memories and existence. The guilt had never gone away, but it had been tamed for awhile for the sake of binding the pieces of his sanity in order to fulfill some purposes that must have been important if he was still alive at this point, dangling and holding on to dear life on Death's thread.

But that was wearing thin, and he was so tired of grasping the laciniate ends. He just wanted to be cut loose, cut from the torment and the regret for which he could not repent, but he supposed that would be too easy of an escape, and he was undeserving of such leisure unless—

-unless he came clean, which felt like the right thing to do, and was the proper thing to do. There wasn't much else he could lose when everything was already taken. All he had left was his dignity and the false illusion he wore to shield others from the real Billy Coen, the side he was terrified of exposing to others because even _he _was scared of its existence. It stalked him like his shadow, more pronounced on certain days than others, darker at nights than mornings, right before it would sometimes slip into his dreams, turning them into nightmares he would try to suppress but couldn't forget, never forget.

Maybe it was about time he confessed, maybe then the demons would grant him some reprieve, or even leave his festering soul. Maybe then, the real healing would begin. There were some secrets one could carry to one's grave, and he'd once thought he would be capable of doing the same, but now as he lay on his death bed, he realized he wanted to talk, to experience one last time what it felt like to live a life without being chased by innumerable ghosts, the numbers still on the rise. To just live as himself, without his tainted side, just one last time. That was what he wanted.

But what he needed was her, by his side to listen to an admittance that would truly free him in both body and mind. And then she would feed him the bullet he'd been longing for, one clean shot that would eradicate all the ties she had to him, any feeling she had for him because they were for a man who was constructed to protect the true coward who couldn't show himself.

"Rebecca," he coughed, the desperate plea earning no response.

Maybe she took his advice and left without him, took off on her own, for her own good. He was starting to slightly regret asking her to hear out his advice, because now he was left without a listener when he needed one the most. The secret never slipped through his lips, only thrived in his mind, and now it seemed it would always be this way. It would die, rot with his hope for salvation.

* * *

A/N: Apologies for the late update! I had a lot of school issues to take care of since my last update, and was working on another story this week. This chapter was supposed to be longer, with a scene featuring Rebecca, but I did not get to finish it, and felt it would be better for the next chapter anyway. I'm thrilled that the story has just broken 200 reviews! Thank you for the comments and support, AND for being patient, because I am a pretty slow writer. =)


	26. Chapter 26

Red on White

**Wednesday, September 30th, evening**

It was over fifteen hours since she left the inn, left Billy's side in hopes of finding the antidote that would restore him to his old self again. It was more than triple that time since Raccoon was sealed off from the rest of the state, country, maybe even the world. Aside from that small nap she had, she had gone two days without proper self-care, hardly had any food and water, sleep and shelter; yet, she didn't seem to notice that she was lacking all the vital essentials that were needed to keep her going. She didn't have any of that, but she had Billy and the fear of being hunted to keep her on her toes. While she could do without the latter, the fear wasn't too overwhelming because she had a partner and a purpose. The experience gave her more confidence of being alone. She was on her own now and no one was watching her back.

But she had made it this far, completed a feat she almost didn't think was possible. Retrieving the V-Poison wasn't as difficult as she'd thought, but she did not come out of the challenge unscathed. She had a few bloody scars on her arms that served to remind her how lucky she was that that was all she had gotten. Finding a lab was surprisingly the easiest task she managed to complete. The underground lab near the precinct she was supposed to have infiltrated weeks ago with Jill and Brad was thankfully accessible to the public now. Something or someone deactivated the lock for some unknown purposes, but she wasn't too interested in finding out the motives at the moment. She was simply thrilled that the lab granted access for her entry, allowing her to locate the magnetic stirrer she was using now to generate the vaccine.

A cure; it actually existed. Rebecca let out a tired but hopeful sigh as she relied on the wall to support her aching body, but watching the substances blend in the magnet stirrer that was specifically developed for the Umbrella Corporation revived her waning senses. She felt a smile tugging across her lips, accompanied by tears welling in her eyes. The bridge of her nose stung, the uncomforting sensation that wished for release both tearing and healing her heart.

She was within the very walls that she, Jill, and Brad were supposed to have torn down-the start to prevent the end, a mission to save lives, not lose them.

But everything went wrong. She wondered how many lives could have been spared had she done more, spoken out, urged more people to get involved. She understood that all the "ifs" and "would haves" weren't going to bring them back, but had she known the infection was going to turn into _this_…

"But I didn't," she reminded herself out loud, sniffling back the tears before they would run with the memories that were connected with them, and there were too many.

The humming of the generator ceased, causing her heart to jump in excitement. Turning to the stirrer, she carefully inserted a fresh syringe she had found in one of the earlier rooms into the beaker and watched the faint purple liquid being absorbed into the tube. When the last bit of substance was procured by the syringe, she set it into the box that previously held the contents to produce the treatment. As she sealed the black box, her hands shook as she thought about how many people out there had been searching for this. How many families that wanted to treat their children, friends who wanted to save each other, strangers who just wanted to stop the infestation?

And now it was in her hands, all because she had a run-in with the right person, been at the right place at the right time, chosen to keep fighting with every last ounce of her strength. So, was this her reward? For suffering and persevering? But there had been others who just fought just as hard as she did, if not more. Were they not more deserving of the antidote she was?

_Not you. Billy_, she realized. This was for Billy—this vaccine, what everyone was trying to get their hands on.

Rebecca drew the box toward her chest, an ill thought passing through her mind. She hadn't seen any machinery that could duplicate the substance in the lab, and she certainly didn't have the time or proper equipments to study each miniscule component of the cure, but she knew that if she managed to get out of the city alive with it, she could maybe hand it over to federal agents, and then they could reproduce the antidote for everyone who came into contact with the deadly virus.

Save one life, or save countless.

She felt the choice should be obvious, but it wasn't. Her heart constricted into itself as she pondered the possibilities and consequences each delicate decision would lead to. As a former officer, she had an obligation to her people, to serve and protect them, but she also had a duty to the man who saved her life. She wouldn't even be here if it weren't for him. He had sacrificed his freedom for the second time to come back for her, and now he was depending on her to give back the life she owed.

"Billy, please hold on…" she whispered, slipping the box into her side pouch, her mind made up from the simple plea. Her chest felt like it was storing a time bomb she had no control over. At any given time her goals, sanity, Billy's life could all detonate—assuming they hadn't already. She hoped that whatever state he was in now, he was still fighting against the virus. She couldn't save his life alone. Though they were set apart by physical distance and a detachment in consciousness, she needed him as a partner now more than ever. Inhaling a deep breath, she turned from the stirrer and dismissed any thoughts about duplicating the vaccine. Samurai Edge secured in her hands, she walked out of the cubicle without looking back for fear that it would give her ideas she couldn't risk getting attached to.

The halls of the hidden underground facility were long and winding, the bright light intensifying like an expansive halo. The white sterile walls made the dimensions of the vast corridors all the more intimidating and cold, but she could also imagine an odd sense of tranquility she did not feel right now emanating. How ironic. She was surrounded by the color of innocence and purity, painted over all the sins within the lair of poison. It made her question Umbrella's choice of interior design for a brief moment, before disgust and anger guided her focus. Her mind searched through the mental drawing of the building she had made for herself. All the paths looked the same, the number of doors and rooms consistent at each route. Having no time to search for a map when she entered, or confirmed if there even was one, she had walked into the facility like a blind mouse, letting only instincts lead her to where she needed to go.

Navigating her way back to the entrance proved to be much easier when she found her dirt-covered foot tracks. She was definitely sure that they were hers. She hadn't seen anyone since she had laid her first step into the lab. Not a single person, not a single disturbance. It was as if those Umbrella scums had filed to their escape in single order. Seeing the lab, the little hidden hell in its pristine glory when it had been responsible for the nightmare above enraged her. It took an immense amount of willpower to control her finger from pulling the trigger against _anything. _Ammunition was too low. She didn't meet any hostility on her way in, but the streets above were a different story.

She ran a little faster when the industrial lift came into view. Jumping over the bars, she tapped the commands that stirred the lift with a rough grunt before it escalated. The ascension was slow, giving her time she didn't want to think about things she did not wish to. As her hand reached out to hold on to the railing, she wondered who else had touched these cool metal rods before her. The facility had been sealed when she, Jill and Brad first came to investigate, but tonight…it was open. When were the locks released? More concerning, who released them? Maybe she was thinking too much into it. It could have been unsealed days ago to evacuate the employees. She didn't even know if finding an answer would matter, or benefit her in any way, but the constant questionings did keep her psyche from splintering.

The platform rocked as it latched into its hinges, stabilizing seconds later. As soon as she climbed out, she was hit by the faint stench of sewage. She invited the odor only because it indicated that she was closer to the exit than she thought.

And she couldn't wait to get out.

She charged down the new hall that was identical to the rest, but differed in that this one lead to the destination of her interest. She was close, could see the large frame of the metallic door, but something else caught her attention. She tried to keep her eyes set on the exit, urging her muscles to carry her past an unneeded distraction, but she couldn't resist the invisible pull drawing her toward a mainframe computer, which appeared to be the master intelligence running the small facility. Her eyes darted back and forth between the door and the CPU. Seconds later, she found herself before a wide, towering screen, her fingers above a large keypad.

The system was conveniently powered, all the programs functional. Someone had even logged on—the username and password stored. She was no whiz when it came to computers and technology, but remembered some of the neat tricks Brad had taught her. She became pretty adept with maneuvering through the S.T.A.R.S. database and couldn't imagine the Umbrella system to be much more difficult. Still, she wished Brad was here with her now. Because if he were…

A sharp twinge of ache punctured her chest.

She swallowed a rising lump in her throat and set the handgun beside the keys, her concentration possessing her fingers to type, dig for some answers she was searching for. She found one immediately.

A small window appeared at the middle of the screen, revealing that the system was last tampered with by someone named Regan.

_Regan…_

A hand covered her gasp. "Billy…"

The connection made between the stranger and Billy was instantaneous. He had mentioned he was captured by Regan, the man who was playing both sides—Umbrella's and the Dunell Marine Base's. Her hands froze, as if ice water had just been shot through her veins when she suddenly remembered Billy's confession. She had been too scared at the time to internalize anything but the idea that there was most likely going to be no hope for her partner, but now that she was able to think clearly with the vaccine in her possession, the words he had spoken with great difficulty echoed like relentless sirens.

"_I bumped into Regan. When I was trying to ward off…the monster, Regan injected me with something. I don't know what, most likely the T-Virus."_

He had been here, and could still very well be in the city. A feeling like none other she had ever felt was fired at her at point-blank range, her body absorbing every last bit of rage and lust for revenge that painted her heart black, the darkness pooling over her vision, blinding her from seeing anything that had nothing to do with the retribution she was seeking. Her fingers slammed into the keys and the screen changed to reveal the man's face, the short bio beside the mug shot meaning nothing to her as she stared into the hollow eyes of the portrait, wishing nothing more for it to be real so she could physically break his smug grin.

Her stomach churned with revolt as she stared at the image. She didn't even blink, the dull aches in her eyes causing them to burn until something broke her concentration. A white box bounced up, relaying a notice: Urgent Message!

The lock she had on Regan broke away, and so did the tears stinging her unmoving eyes when they finally became animated, fixated on the new window. With the touch of a key, the message popped up and delayed her breaths.

_Attention. The Raccoon City Project has been abandoned. Our political maneuvering in the senate to delay their plans is now futile. All supervisors should evacuate immediately. The US Army is going to execute their plan soon, and the city will be obliterated at daybreak on Friday. _

A new fear and alarm seized her chest as she reread the sentences. Trapped in the city and fighting with her purposes defeated had twisted her idea of time; she knew it existed, and she was constantly trying to stay ahead, but before she found out about Billy's mutation, she had always thought that there _would_ be time waiting for her. Now she felt as if the minutes were dissolving into running sands slipping through a sieve.

If she wanted to live, she had to get out of the city in a little more than a day, or else there would not be any choice left for her to make.

But then there was also Jill. Did she know about this? How was she going to find her?

Her panic severed like a blade against thread when the screen she was staring at erupted, the glass showering beside her feet. Smoke filled the space, the soft grey mist clouding her vision and ceasing all thoughts for just a few seconds until she detected something very wrong with the pink coiling rope that extended into the hole of the smashed screen. It was moving, slithering, pulsing. It was alive. The scent of fried and burnt circuits reached her nostrils, as did the odor of toxic chemicals. The alarm returned, increasing as her head slowly turned, her eyes following the length of the elongated flesh into a mouth—

-of a creature that paralyzed the faintest movement in her body. It had once been human, the body of one covered with a layer of raw and bloody skin still familiar to the eye. There was an element of grace in the way it was balanced on the white tiles, the legs and feet obscured by arms that terminated in giant sharp claws that gleamed like knives beneath sunglow. The muscles along its abdomen stretched against the skin as it leaned back to maintain the delicate poised stance. Rebecca watched the muscles in its chest twitch, and followed the ligaments toward the neck, the head, where a faceless visage greeted her. There was no scalp, no eyes. At the crown of its head was the full exposure of its brain, the lobes and tissues quivering like a chrysalis about to hatch. The mouth was easily five times the size of a human's, the skin around the corners ripped and even burnt, exposing two rows of long oversized teeth that served as the gatekeeper of the impossibly lengthy tongue that had a life of its own.

Before she could even ask herself what the hell she was staring at, the monster hissed and reeled back its tongue, quicker than the snap of a rubber band. She was fast too, already drawing out her gun before the tongue was retracted into its mouth. Not having enough time to aim, she fired a blind shot in the creature's direction and hoped to hear some howl that indicated she had hit a vital spot. There was a shriek, but it was hardly one that resonated pain. It sounded excited, almost like a confident battle cry. A blink later, the bio-organic weapon was out of sight. She heard the soft thuds before her eyes found the nimble monster scaling the ceiling.

The _thing_ dipped its head back, the tongue charging through the upside down wicked smile like a wild whip. It crackled against the tile as she shoulder-rolled out of the way. Acid began pooling around the space she had just occupied a second ago, eroding the white ground.

Her finger was right by the trigger but she couldn't pull it until the acid stopped fizzing, leaving behind a large charred spot on the immaculate floor. There was a powerful guardian watching over her, there had to be. The bio-weapon could have killed her right there and then but it didn't. Instead, it began whipping its tentacle-like appendage in what she thought to be random swings, until hard particles rained over her head like a hailstorm of ice shards.

When she glanced up, the ceiling winked out of existence, the entire room falling into a black void—the one she was in the middle of.

_The lights, it took out the lights!_

She was alone.

With that deadly killer.

In the dark.

Terror from that realization began to mount, only to be quelled by a cascading wave of adrenaline rush. She thrust a hand toward the pocket of her utility belt, the fingers frantically searching for a flashlight. All the while, she remained as quiet and still as possible, afraid that even a breath would fill her ears, distract her only available source of detection. Getting impatient with the search, she slammed her palm over the belt for a deeper search.

_Please…it has to be here! Please…_

There was a predatory hiss, but she couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. The acoustic of the room was strange—feeding her sound from all directions. Just as the sigh began to die out, another one surfaced, followed by an exact echo overlapping the first.

_Two at once? T-there's more than one of them in here!_

She had no idea where they were coming from, but she knew if she stayed in here any longer, she was going to get swarmed by a countless number of them. A faint green glow radiated behind her. Risking a glance, she saw that it was the light that highlighted her exit. She could break into a run and reach the door before the creatures could catch her. Maybe they were blind in the dark, but her body did not move, as if it was its way of telling her that this was not a good idea. If they couldn't see in the dark, they wouldn't have taken out the lights. Whatever they were…they had a rather high level of intelligence.

_So that means…they can see me now?_

Giving up on the search on her left side, she patted down her right thigh and felt the flashlight strapped against a small pocket of her belt. Yes! She didn't lose it after all.

Rebecca regained her balance on her feet before flicking the light on, the beam disbanding the shadows, shining right into the face of the monster that was only a few feet ahead of her. Pulling the gun beneath the light, she released the breath she had been holding all this time and pulled the trigger—the shot warding off a blow she had suspected coming. The bullet pierced the tip of bio-weapon's tongue when it was a foot away from her throat. Her lips had no time to curl into the smile that was widening in her mind as pure despair dripped from the screech that bounced off the walls. Hoping that she staggered it enough to buy her some time to reach the exit, she began running toward the green beacon. Her muscles were tight, steadying her arms and the beam and gun she held in her hands.

She swung the flashlight left and right, the gun following the direction of the brightness that did not illuminate any movements in the dark. She had taken one down, but there had to be at least one more roaming around, pressed into the dimness. She didn't want to worry about it as the green radiance became larger, like a traffic light urging her to keep going. Her hand just needed to reach the button beneath, and her freedom would be granted.

So close, so—

A breathless gasp burst from her mouth as something sticky, wet, and heavy slapped around her ankle, tripping her equilibrium. Rebecca landed on her knees, the mysterious pressure over her boot increasing to a crushing squeeze that felt like teeth penetrating her skin. The weapon and her only source of light managed to remain in her clutches, but before she could point the flashlight at what was behind her, she was lifted slightly from the ground. A flash of cold damp air smacked her, the still obscurity suddenly flying across her vision as her body was tossed to the left panel of the corridor. Her back slammed into the stiff wall, and then she fell to the ground like a discarded chew toy.

Rebecca wasn't even given a chance to groan when she rolled to her side. She heard the monster charging, leaping into the air above her, and could only ignore the bruising pain expanding over her spine as she saw the silhouette of the attacker, its claws to the walls. The long neck turned toward her, bringing its head, its eyeless stare down to her face. The tongue ejected through the bite like a cannonball and aimed for her arm. It found her wrist and coiled around it, the flaring pinching cinch causing her to surrender the Samurai Edge. One of its claws slowly began to rise, and she had the sinking feeling that it was going to bound off the wall and slice her till she became its minced dinner.

Rebecca ground her teeth, resisting giving into the imminent blow. She was out of options, and the only idea she had seemed too unsafe to pull off.

_You have no choice, _her mind screamed, prompting her to drop her flashlight in an effort to locate her knife. If it wasn't there, she was screwed.

That guardian, whatever it was that was watching over her, came back to lend her protection. Her fingers felt the hilt, and she withdrew the blade and struck it into the spiraling flesh. It was far from strong enough to segment any piece of the length, but she was satisfied when her wrist was liberated after she pulled back the blade dripping with blood and sinew. Instinct possessed her to duck, and no more than two seconds when she did, the creature leaped over her head, its massive claw swiping at air. The wind from the wallop brushed across her cheek, and she had to touch her neck to make sure her head was still intact.

It was.

She sucked in a deep breath and held it, willing herself not to inhale the nauseating odor of chemicals and burnt flesh emanating from the bio-weapon. It was less than a foot away from her; there was no way she could run out of its range without being captured again, or killed this time. Her hand reached for the flashlight she had dropped, and the beam immediately began locating the Samurai Edge. Her lower lip rolled between her teeth when she spotted part of the barrel peaking from behind slimy red hind legs.

It was only when she began to stand that she acknowledged the extra weight on her back—an extra weapon, extra ammunition. Her right arm swung back, and though she had never been too comfortable with an over-the-shoulder draw, there was always a first time for a fluid one—and her moment for one was now. She fired the machine gun at her assailant before it could merge into the shadows. Shots spraying like a sunburst through storm clouds volleyed into the carapace of the main body. Blood shot from the holes, droplets from the sanguine rain staining the spotless floor.

Red on white. She could really use an umbrella right about now.

Her finger never released the trigger; her face never flinched even as the viscous fluids splattered on her. The monster was flinching, lurching backwards from her gun and that was what she cared about. Before her machine gun clicked empty, she had already snatched the Samurai Edge from the ground. Holstering the empty weapon, she saw a clean opportunity to make the getaway. She didn't look twice behind her before she dashed for the exit. Once was enough to tell her that the B.O.W. was on the verge of death, and she would be too if the other one caught her. The second one was close behind; she could hear the soft but frantic footsteps scurrying toward her, but her ears detected a shift in the sounds, causing her to aim her flashlight and handgun toward the ceiling before a talon ripped into her face.

One shot and it was thrown off its refined balance in midair, like a gymnast missing his landing. She didn't bother to see it hit the floor, just kept running.

So close, so close.

Her lungs were threatening to collapse.

_Just a little more…_

She thrust her arm forward, the muzzle of the Samurai Edge slamming into the button like an arrow hitting a bullseye on a target. A rush of air whizzed over her head as she dived through the door, but when it locked into its frames moments later, she heard something slam into the back of it—hard—followed by screeches of metal rending. She backed away from the fortification that separated her and the two beasts that were after her life. She heard the poundings against it, but the wall didn't shake, and for the first time in her life, she was grateful for one of Umbrella's inventions.

Her body was sticky all over, covered with slime, sweat, and blood but none of that registered when she patted her pocket to make sure that she hadn't dropped the vaccine. Her fingers found the edges of the box, and her lungs and heart were finally able to relax. A long deep breath was finally granted. Having nowhere to go and nowhere she wanted to go but back to Billy, she made her way to the manhole with nothing but his life encompassing her thoughts.

* * *

Red on white.

Like the little Canadian flag he had drawn when he was three; like icing on the vanilla cake he had helped make when he was five; like roses on the day of his parents' ten-year anniversary, like blood on snow on the day they were murdered; like the roses by their tombstone; like Umbrella; like the color of his wounds soaking through tight bandages.

His eyes opened.

If he were an ordinary man, his thoughts and body would have yielded to sleep, which seemed to be a foreign concept now. Sleep. Did it even exist anymore? Since he had step foot into Raccoon, he had never felt more alive; and ironically, the city of the dead had never pulsed with so much life. So yes, sleep was lost and he didn't need it anymore either. Sleep was only for the normal people still left in this town, and only through it could they dream of the impossible, just like he had for decades.

Regan removed his hand from his injured arm, uncovering two colors he had seen over and over again throughout his life—the two most prominent colors haunting and thriving in his mind. During the few minutes that he had been suspended between sleep and consciousness, memories that he had locked away and forgotten surfaced like a diver in desperate need for air. He was forced to feel and be reminded of the devastations that made his bones feel brittle as well as the restorations that turned skin to armor.

And now his armor was skin. He couldn't stop the infection in time and now it was spreading, consuming any weaknesses inside him. He had never thought that that the T-Virus was able to power cognition as a tool, but he supposed he needed to experience the virus to experience its full effects and capabilities. The disease was brilliant; it had the ability to play with memories, certain ones that triggered the emotions needed to stimulate hatred, which fed strength.

Regan picked up a shattered piece of glass from the ground. He looked at his own reflection, the fragment revealing red pupils in place of his natural color.

Red on white.

He was truly changing. He didn't know when the transformation would fully be completed, but he could feel it coursing fast. Josephine had delivered the same poison he presented to her. In a sick way, she had gotten her revenge, but he wouldn't quite call it that.

He would not die in the pathetic way she had.

Though he played a part in the creation of the virus, he had always been a little fearful of it, knowing that it did not came with a cure, another chance in the event of a small accident.

But he was no longer afraid.

The power…it was incredible.

* * *

He had several more dreams after the first one, was trapped in worlds more frightening than that black void. He kept moving to these different worlds, and each time he entered one, he felt a part of himself decay, a body part rot, several memories vanish. He was going to face a fate far worse than his execution, but just like he had dodged that death, he somehow managed to evade this one as well. Just before the last strand of his thought slipped, the memories found their way back, to his heart first, using it to flood all sorts of emotions to revive a body teetering on the brink of death.

He did nothing but listen and feel. The instinct to fight was the first to return, supported by the need to. It was a battle he had never engaged in, yet he knew exactly what to do. He wasn't alone. As always, there was help he didn't deserve.

As always, he was given chances he had taken from others.

"I didn't think it was going to work…"

Billy heard the suppression of sadness. When he opened his eyes, he was in a new world, the right world.

He smiled, his chest aching at the sight of Rebecca's image. She looked like she had been dragged through the worst parts of his dreams, ones that were far more threatening than what was happening in Raccoon. Tears gathered against her lids, and just when he thought they were going to overflow, her grin widened. She pushed her emotions back, and a blink later, the moisture was gone, leaving her eyes to reflect only relief and joy.

"I didn't think there was even a cure," he replied, trying hard to maintain his smile. "How did you find one?"

Rebecca got up from the bed and moved to the table by the window to grab a black box. "Remember what we found in Sherry's bag and at the school? They were notes and the right ingredients to synthesize the vaccine." She set the box down and touched a bruise on her cheek that had not been there before. "I managed to gather everything and got really lucky when I found a magnetic stirrer in one of Umbrella's underground labs right here in the city."

It was his turn having trouble keeping his eyes open against the emotion pushing for release. He wanted to ask her so many questions. What did she go through to get that vaccine? How long did she spend searching for it? Was she hurt at the moment?

But what he wanted to know the most was, why save him but not the others?

"Y-you didn't manage to duplicate the vaccine, did you?" he whispered.

She shook her head, and the regret he expected to see was not present on her face. "There wasn't time to worry about that. I had the vaccine…I didn't even know if you were still alive. I left you for nearly a day and didn't even know if it was going to work on you." She turned toward the window. Night was slowly being lifted, but he knew she wasn't looking at that. Even with the windows completely sealed, he could still hear the diseased moans collecting below. "Billy, we all have our choices to make, and I made mine."

She had chosen him over countless other lives. One man over mankind.

He moved the blanket away. The color and texture of his skin wasn't like how they were in the dreams. He felt as renewed as he looked. The vaccine worked miracles, but miracles were rare.

Hearing him get out of bed, Rebecca immediately turned to him and leaned forward, her features projecting protest before she even spoke. "You should rest more!" She looked like she wanted to add something else but fell back on her heels. He could tell there was something she was hiding. Whatever it was, it would have to wait. He was keeping something too. This wasn't the best time, but there would never be one.

"I'm fine, more than fine actually," he said, walking toward her.

"You're shaking," she noted, eyeing his body.

He didn't deny the truth. When she reached out a hand to steady him, he gently caught it, ceasing the motion of concern. Before he lost consciousness, his dying wish was to have the chance to set his guilt free, and to live for one last time as his old self.

Why was fate so kind to him? He felt disgusted for the few times he pitied his life. The truth was he was having it better than most people out there.

"Rebecca, I…I can't thank you enough for what you've done…for giving me the life I don't deserve to have.

"Billy, what are you talking about?"

He felt her hand tremble in his and held it tighter in response. They were both feeling the same emotion, but it wasn't one he wanted them to share. This moment and this fragile little gesture would surely be the last indication for any sort of partnership, friendship…intimacy, between them.

He was the first to let go, leaving her palm suspended in the air.

"I knew about Umbrella…everything about them."

The demons died, and so did the fire in Rebecca's eyes.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the very late update again. I had a lot of papers to write and I'm just slow with this story in general. I hope everyone had a great Christmas and will have a wonderful new year! So this is Billy's secret. No peace and happiness for our couple yet, and just when they were getting close too! The message Rebecca receives is the same one in RE3 that Jill finds, same wording as well—just wanted to be clear about that! In case you didn't figure it out, the bio-weapon Rebecca was fighting was the Licker. =P

Thanks again for all the comment and reviews! I love all your encouragements, support, and feedbacks. I had a lot of fun writing this year, and you all helped me grow as a writer. I'm looking forward to learning more and improving in 2011, too. Thank you! =)


	27. Chapter 27

Purification

**Thursday, September 31st, early morning**

There's a reason behind every motivation, an explanation to drive the act. For people who say there isn't one, it's because they haven't discovered it yet. Sometimes, it's easier to run from the truth and never face it, or accept a lie that makes everything all right. After all, some of the happiest people are the ones who are deluded. Those are the options.

But Rebecca wasn't allowed to choose. She was going to hear it whether she wanted to or not. In that case, it had better be something damn good.

Despite feeling like a glass before an approaching stampede, she refused to let her weakness show. As she lowered her hand to her side, she could still feel the phantom touch of Billy's palm and the warmth and security the simple gesture had given her just seconds ago; but looking into his eyes, blue and hard like icicles, an eerie chill encompassed her, the shivers absorbing every bit of heat left in her body.

"Start talking."

She wished she instilled more emotions into the command—maybe it would cut some tension—but she was never good at hiding her true feelings. What she felt on the inside always surfaced over the masks that did not fit her.

Like a trusty shield, Billy did not flinch, but all manmade protections would eventually be worn out from onslaughts of pressure. She didn't know how long he was going to last, because his burning resolve would eventually scorch him too, and at that time, she didn't know if she would dance or weep over the ashes.

"You already know about my story in Africa, at least, a part of it," he began, watching her as if she were a dangerous predator, trying to ascertain how much longer he had before she would inflict that deadly pounce.

Her eyes narrowed to mirror his caution. "Yes, but there's more to it than that," she announced what she already knew, her unblinking gaze continuing to reach his.

Vigilance rose for different reasons, splintering the same side they shared into two, pitting them against each other. She knew he could feel the same discomfort, the same disconnect, and was relieved that he broke away from the unrelenting staring contest first, for she knew she could not.

She followed his roaming eyes as they wandered about the room before they finally fixated on the windows. The droplets of rain that speckled the panes streaked over his reflection, painting a weathered and grief-stricken face that no artist could illustrate. It was one of the few times she saw his vulnerability bleed through his tough exterior.

She heard him inhale, tension and breath held for some time before he began to speak. "The villagers…the only reason why we were ordered to slaughter them was because they knew about Umbrella's experiments taking place in Africa."

Rebecca felt as if she had just been slapped out of a dream, the ghost of a strike stinging against cold skin trying to numb the pain and whipping her breath away. Her mouth became dry, her lips frozen in an astonished part.

"I met a young girl one night, a native, maybe about Sherry's age. She led me to the testing grounds for the sickening experiments taking place. It was then that I figured out that we were only sent to Africa to cover Umbrella's tracks without causing suspicions. I went back and warned the rest of my unit, the few that were left. They were killed the next morning." He paused and walked closer to the panes, placing a palm against the glass like a father too scared to feel the heartbeats of a dying child, refusing to accept the reality. But this was Billy's reality, his tale a series of facts written by his all too impassive fate that was forcing him to recite its work.

His hand slid down the glass, moving with the rain on the other side. "When the reinforcements arrived, I was knocked out, but I do remember the gun fires, the screams. Came to a few hours later on a chopper heading back to the States, with Regan next to me," he said quietly.

Billy turned to the side and lowered his head, but not before she saw light catching in his eyes, sheen glazing over the hard fixture of his pupils.

She found her voice again. "And that's when he admitted everything to you," she said in place of the silence, to give him the moment of reprieve he seemed to desperately need, but was too proud to ask for.

He nodded. A blink later, his gaze was stone hard again. The muscles in his arms scrunched and his fingers folded into his palms, his knuckles protruding like the emergence of canine teeth that wanted to bite down on his words, hard. "He knew I was hearing the reports made back to Umbrella. Didn't take me long to piece everything together and realize that I was going to be used as the scapegoat. But, Regan was paranoid that a thorough investigation would be carried out in Africa if I breathed a word. At the same time, to make the story credible, he needed me alive for my execution." He ground his teeth and swallowed slowly, his next confession beating to life with her heart." That's when he blackmailed me, said that if I mentioned anything to anyone at anytime, he'd make sure everyone I knew suffer, if Umbrella didn't kill them first."

He felt confident enough to look her in the eyes again, to signal that the worst had come out. His body slacked, the muscles relaxing now that the secret was out. She expected him to recover immediately, to see relief rejuvenate his stature, like a prisoner running to embrace the first touch of freedom after decades of imprisonment. He was free to go, but looked as if he was trudging out with the knowledge that most of his life was gone and maybe it was just better to crawl behind the bars again, because what remained could never make up for the loss. To see the suffering on his face, and feel it creep over him like winding vines of thorns, made one side her mouth twitch into an awkward grin.

The amusement frightened her, more than anything else she had been through. She knew she at least had the ability to fight Umbrella's monstrosities, but how do you fight something inside of you that cannot be seen or touched. How do you fight hate when love is like a candle in a cold, black cave, about to be extinguished by the first exhale of fear of being consumed by the darkness? Eventually, you get swallowed by it, become part of it, accept it.

_All this time, he knew…he knew about Umbrella and kept it from me._

The first blossom of revulsion made her clear her throat pretentiously, purposely engaging him in her own tale. "I know a man who had been in the same position, was blackmailed into betraying his own friends for the sake of protecting his wife and young daughters. But you know what? In the end, he came through, and risked his entire family to stand by what he knew to be right."

To this moment, Barry's decision moved her. Nothing was more important to him than his own family. Not Chris, not Jill, no one. She had never questioned him why he did what he did. The aftermath of that threat was a blessing for him, and she couldn't bring herself to make him suffer the alternative, even in thought.

"I'm not that man."

_And you'll never be, _she wanted to yell. "So why did you keep your mouth shut, _Lieutenant_?"

She had never derisively mocked anyone; in fact, she had never mocked anyone at all. Her reactions were uncontrollable, manipulated by fury and grief she wanted Billy to feel in the form of the worst abuse she could dish out, because there would be no other way for him to know what she was going through. To her disappointment, he was an outlet for her wrath with no power supply. The lines of anguish on his face depressed back into the skin, a tranquil façade smoothing over his features. His side profile betrayed no reactions, and with the other half of his face hidden from view, the aloofness felt twice as great.

"Aside from my mother, I didn't give a shit about what would happen to _anyone_…but I'm not saying I kept my mouth shut to protect her." He spoke evenly and calmly at first, and so the shift in volume discharged like claps of thunder, allowing his tone to build into the shattering crescendo that mattered, the finale with finality. "I never expected something like _this _to happen. At the time, I simply felt like quitting, and wanted somebody else to take care of the situation, someone who could bring down Umbrella."

A sigh stretched before his voice waned with an audible exhalation. "That person wasn't...and still isn't me."

Even with disgust gripping her, the part of her that wanted to defend him was still there. That part, that had refused to believe he was a murderer, wanted to believe that the vaccine had ended up poisoning his mind instead of saving him. At the same time, the greater part of her, clouded by the dark mists of hatred, blamed him, just like his unit had. She was no better than them, but Billy was no better than Regan.

"What kind of a Lieutenant are you?" she whispered, her wrist beginning to shake, the vibrations moving to possess her entire arm.

Billy shrugged, as if he was just asked if he preferred juice or tea. "The kind who aspired to be the world's hero, only to find out that the villains get to the ones who truly need to be saved before the hero does."

It aggravated her that he could maintain his stoic demeanor, invite and reject emotions at will. Was this how criminals act, _feel_?

He began to walk toward her, his slow, thick steps dropping like the rhythm of her heartbeats, each thump agonizingly lengthened like the ticks of a worn grandfather clock. His voice was deep, sincere, rooting her in a trance. "I felt the blind rage you're feeling now. Once you've been burned by a betrayal like that, the scars don't heal so easily, if at all."

He approached her, but didn't stop his gait; instead, he circled around, pausing directly behind her, without a gun pointing to her this time. Like the first time they had met on the Ecliptic Express, she felt the air of mystery he carried before she even faced him. He later became an enigma she refused to leave unsolved, and she was still no closer to figuring out the puzzle. Instead, more pieces fell to hinder the completion.

Sometime in the last couple of minutes, the rain had ceased. The final beads of water against the window pane tumbled into each other and met their collective destination at the sill. Being a head taller than her, she now saw his face clearly in the glass. No embellishments altered her perception this time. In the reflection, he was pale, transparent, light, like his own ghost.

Billy Coen was in another place at another time, experiencing something else he wished to share with her.

"But something happened," he said softly, his eyes in the direction of her back, but his sight on something she couldn't quite discern. He looked dazed. "In the transport vehicle, the reality of my execution shocked me into feeling something again. At any moment before my death, I had the chance to make a difference. I didn't want to give it up. I realized…I didn't want to die with regrets."

His shoulder quivered slightly, and a faint chuckle followed. "And then what happened? The vehicle was attacked, the guards dead. That had to be some sort of sign, right?"

His eyes moved once more, and this time, they were looking at the windowpane, at her face.

"When I first met you, I thought you were just a stupid little girl. But, you were a part of S.T.A.R.S., and if anyone should know about Umbrella, it would be you guys. So I decided to stick around, pretended we should work together to get off the train. I never expected to care and become attached to you. We fought so hard to survive, and you fought to help me be a free man again. You can't just abandon a sacrifice like that."

There was no sugar-coating. What he said came out sharp like a razor, the truth like a blade slicing through open wounds.

"So I pretended I was just as clueless as you were about Umbrella. You were already too involved. I couldn't risk getting you hurt, or even killed, just because you knew me."

She turned around, both her arms quaking almost uncontrollably now. She let the tears go, slide down the contours of her face till they reached her lips. Containing them was like trying to cultivating acid. Her lower lip curled into her mouth, the salty liquid on her skin becoming bitter too, the mixture tasting like rotten apples. Soon, the tang of copper besieged her taste buds. She swallowed the blood drawn from the cuts around her mouth before retorting, "So you let me walk into that mansion, knowing very well what was inside." The tears slid faster, stinging the gash on her cheek, her broken lip. "Do you know how many people we lost in Arklay?" she bellowed.

_And do you know how many could have been prevented if you had told me?_

He had good intentions. Even in the most twisted way possible, he had wanted to keep her safe but no mirth and gratitude came with that knowledge. She felt even more responsible than ever for her comrades' deaths now. At first, she blamed her inexperience and always thought that if she had been quicker, smarter, a better shooter, then this and that…

Not this. She had never expected something like this. Not because of a chance meeting with a stranger who was a murderer in another sense.

He shook his head, strands of his dark, untamed mane flowing with the movement. It was then that she took notice that his hair had gotten considerably longer, his stubbles darker. When his face darkened like a thundercloud rolling across a bright horizon, he was the spitting image of a rugged criminal.

"I didn't know that was going to happen, didn't think anyone else would die in there...I had no idea what was in that mansion. It could have been nothing, or like the facility in Arklay. But I did know that you were going to be safe with the rest of your teammates. I wasn't about to throw away the freedom you gave me, and you wouldn't have let me followed you into that mansion. You know it."

It was always his words that swayed her, but this time, they only fired her temper.

Rage clambered up her lungs, echoing with her scream. "I don't know anything anymore!"

Another rush of tears emerged in her eyes, and splashed over her cheeks with each blink. Against the blur, the sight of his face kept shifting, and she wished it would just dissolve altogether. But then he leaned in closer, his arms reaching for her shoulders, his handsome face breaking through the watery haze. She instinctively moved back and shrugged away from his grasp. The flash of concern in his eyes was gone like the burst of a bubble when he understood her request and dropped his arms to his sides—quick to obey, like a good pathetic soldier.

Not much fazed that soldier, but perhaps the deafening silence did, provoking him to continue his confession. From experience, they both knew that pain was a tiny bit more tolerable when it was to be expected.

"I didn't know what to do after we parted. My first instinct was to run, get as far away from Raccoon as possible. At that point, you already knew what Umbrella was up to. I wasn't needed anymore. If I had stayed behind and gotten caught, your career would have been over…the least of your worries actually."

Rebecca pursed her lips; she couldn't argue with his sound logic. She cast her eyes to the floor, didn't trust herself to look at him, not when she was most vulnerable. She was depending on her anger to keep herself from crumbling to an embarrassing mess.

"But guilt held me back. I couldn't go back to Raccoon so I stayed near and began investigating on my own. That's when I got caught by Regan."

She risked one curious glance at him that peeked through the bangs sticking to her eyes. "Then why the hell did you decide to come back?"

"Selfish reasons," he answered, lowering his head to hide behind an invisible curtain of shame. "Regan said he only found me because you exposed me. I started to believe him at first. That blind rage came back. Betrayed two times, I was ready to give up, something I felt I should have done before." His voice softened. "But that incident in Arklay changed me. I've always fought, but never knew for what. I didn't know what real fear was till that day."

Rebecca tilted her head back to meet his steely blue gaze reflected in the liquid obscuring her vision, the color churning like small, tremulous ripples. "So you came back to hear it straight from my mouth if I backstabbed you or not."

"That's one of the reasons," he admitted, "but after experiencing that fear, I didn't want anyone else to go through it, ever. I didn't know how the villagers in Africa felt, but now I do…and I want to fight to get rid of this fear."

"How noble of you," she snapped. "Others fought too you know, some could have fought harder, would still be here today…" A tsunami of turbulent emotions rose in her chest, guiding her fists toward him, but they never touched his face, collapsing harmlessly just inches away from his neck like petals shedding from a dying bloom. Like a flaccid flower, she wilted to the ground, feeling as if she were kneeling before invisible graves. They wouldn't want her to blame him for this. No one could have predicted this. They had all been lost, gone towards paths that were lead by compasses given to them by Umbrella. Only the few who were still alive today found them to be manipulated, on purpose.

"I know you feel that I'm responsible for your friends' deaths, perhaps even the destruction of this city," he continued, his voice cracking audibly for the first time, "and if I could go back and do things differently, I would."

"Maybe things would have been different," she reflected, blinking away the last tear, her vision clear again, paving way for lucidity. Though the light in the room was dim, its radiance was still very much desired for comfort, and right now, it offered her the most solace. "Maybe not…"

They would never know, and there were no benefits in placing so much thought in uncertainties that no longer mattered.

"I see why you didn't feel like you deserve the antidote," she whispered, for fear that the slightest of agitations would stir another flood of anger and grief. But seconds later, she felt too exhausted to contribute any more to the secret she had been dying to find out.

"I don't." The confirmation echoed notes of distress and reverberated in her ears before dying with her resentment. Lament was taking its place.

She nodded, pulling herself together. From the corner of her eye, she saw his arms shift forward, indecisiveness swaying him to make a choice.

Before he could touch her, she told him, "They didn't deserve to die either, but look at them now." What she had meant to say was that no one chose to be put into the situation they were in now, but she didn't bother clarifying the ambiguity of her statement. He could take it however he liked. She was done. "I wish I had never met you."

The offering of a hand came too late. She stood up and turned toward the door. She had promised him she wouldn't judge, and was content that he did not stop her from running out of the room before his presence made her reconsider the pledge she regretted making.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but I wanted this one to stand alone since it's one of the more critical ones that really affects Billy and Rebecca's relationship. Love it? Hate it? I tried my best! But, rest assured that this turning point will have a pretty big impact (hopefully a good one) on the ending!

Thanks so much for reading and following this story! There's still more to come!


	28. Chapter 28

Your Hope in My Hands

**Thursday, September 31st, early morning**

_I wish I had never met you._

That one line pulsated in Billy's mind, as if it had a life of its own. It stung at first, more than any wound that had been inflicted on him, but the pain eventually ebbed when he considered it might have been for the better if he had never met her either. He should have just peacefully walked to his execution and left things alone, the way they should be. His presence had done nothing to improve the situation; he wasn't needed.

Was he ever needed, _wanted_?

His hand folded into a fist as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting a cold draft calm the tension all over his body. What he would give to have all the turmoil numbed, these memories erased. As quickly as he made the wishes, he regretted them. Good or bad, the memories were all he had now, and without them he would be even more lost. Feeling the tears recede back into his eyes, he took a step forward and kneeled on one knee on the cool, wet cement. He expected the reek of rotting flesh to pervade, but was only met with the smell of smoke from the inn and one particular scent that was only familiar to his nose.

Warm vanilla. Maybe he was going crazy, maybe he was imagining it, but he swore could smell it; the scent was there.

He began to smile and feel much younger than he was, more fragile than the house of cards they had built when he was four. He had gotten excited and made the mistake of adding the weight of one extra card to the apex of the structure, causing the entire house to collapse before the blink of an eye. He had been upset but later laughed it off with his mother. That image was powerfully imprinted in his mind and haunted much of his childhood. He saw himself as that house, getting bigger, stronger, with each addition of success, because he wasn't the only constructor. Josephine had helped him for years, laid out the basic foundation for him to follow. But then one day, she just abandoned the project. Young and naïve, he had no guidance. It didn't take him long to make one mistake, whatever it was, that caused the dwelling to topple over.

With no partner, he was forced to construct a new one on his own. It was rocky at first. He had no sense of coordination, direction, but he never lost sight of how he wanted the finished product to look. And so he pursued the construction on his own. It had taken many years to get it the way he wanted it to be. Many ideas were considered, decisions were made, but somewhere down the line, he had made a fatal mistake and the culmination of his years of hard work now lay in ruin.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in Josephine's aroma, one that perhaps existed only in his mind. As a child, he was always comforted by that scent when she held him against her bosom and whispered words that were like honey—sweet and thick, always sticking to his heart, leaving him wanting for more.

He retrieved her bracelet from his pocket. When he opened his eyes, it seemed to glow in his palm like gold protruding in a field of dirt. His fingers worked to gently hook the bangle. The clasp was a tricky one, but memories of practicing unhooking it at the jewelry shop rushed back, facilitating the process. He had wanted to put it around her wrist and didn't want to mess up. He had been so desperate for her to be proud of him that he was willing to complete the smallest of accomplishments as long as it mattered in her eyes.

The jewelry felt much heavier than he remembered it to be. His fingers ran across the chain and over the amethyst heart. There were many grooves and rough edges and even the gem had tiny fractures, and upon a closer inspection, he realized that the defects were not from the battle.

The gift wasn't cheap, but for the price he paid, it wasn't meant to last a lifetime either. His smile widened and joy began to bubble in his chest. It could only mean that she had been wearing it for years. The imperfections embedded in the bracelet were made from time.

He could spend forever wondering why she decided to finally accept the present, and thus, accepting him, but it wasn't like he was going to get answers. Just knowing that he wasn't alone as he had thought was enough for him. At one point, her love and faith in him were renewed, and he wasn't about to let that die with her.

And just like that, he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Thanks Mom…I love you," he whispered, firmly folding his fingers over the bracelet until he felt it pressing into his skin. He stood up to cast one last look at Josephine's body. As grotesque and distorted she was now, he couldn't have felt more connected with her, more at home.

He'd erect a new house; and this time he would not be alone, and there would be no more mistakes.

With great reluctance, he turned and began walking away from her, each step of departure becoming easier than the last. He slipped the bracelet into the pocket of his jeans before his farewell was announced with the strength she gave him. "Good-bye."

* * *

Exhaustion and grief brought her on her knees, inside a small warehouse. Pallet racks filled with construction supplies lined the walls, leaving an isolated, lonely center with nothing but a dim light doing a poor job of chasing away the gloom, the darkness that buried the gruesome, decaying bodies in their shadows. She counted ten survivors in the room, all ten unmoving and rotting on the ground, filling the area with a nauseating stench that somehow did not bother her anymore. Smelling nothing but death these past few days, she was having a hard time remembering what 'normal' smelled like, what being 'normal' felt like.

She stared at the Samurai Edge in her lap. In many ways, it was her partner, a companion that would never betray and hurt her. It only served to support her, remind her of her competency when she did not feel she belonged with the rest of her comrades. It was with her through good and bad times. It saw her smiles and felt her tears on its barrel. It watched her fight, survive, live, and if she chose to, it would watch her die.

Tomorrow, Raccoon will be no more. Her hope of leaving the city was suddenly diminishing. Just a day ago, she and Billy had a solid plan of getting out of Raccoon, but even with that plan embedded in her mind, she felt lost and unmotivated. Even if she were to make it out alive and expose Umbrella, whom would she avenge? The ones who died because of a hideous secret kept from the convict she protected?

There were five bullets left in her Samurai Edge, but all she needed was one to provide herself with an alternate escape to this nightmare once and for all. She had never once contemplated suicide, but the thought was no longer frightening when her body was an armor of liquid fire. Anguish and anger were far more deadly and infectious than the T-Virus. _They _couldn't feel, but she could.

Relief cooled her body when she found that she could not bring the gun to her head. The thought was there, but her will was not. Somehow, she must have known that there still had to be something worth fighting for, something that would renew her shaky faith.

She did aim the gun at the space in front of her, however. There was nothing before her, but the hollow feeling in her stomach began to expand when her eyes remained focused on the shadows, detecting something different about them. One that had not been there previously was now visible against the back wall, growing in size as it advanced to the left. Both hands gripping her gun tightly, she began to stand up slowly, without making the faintest of sounds as her finger snaked closer to the trigger.

"Hold off on that for now, would you?" a voice came from the direction of the darkness ahead.

Her eyes narrowed with a hard edge, the muscles in her hand tensing. "Who's there?"

The new shadow moved closer, into the stream of pale sunlight pouring into the warehouse from one of the high windows above. Even before the figure was completely revealed, she detected something wrong. There were sounds, like the beats of an overly lively heart, bouncing off the walls of the warehouse, making her feel as if she were standing inside a body. The circumferences of her eyes grew when she saw one of the man's arms. The sleeve of his trench coat was ripped—no, more like it had been chewed through. The bloody tattered scraps left hanging by threads had teeth prints, but she knew better than to ask if he was all right.

The man had a sadistic smile splitting across his face, and no person who had been bitten would be smiling like this. Wrinkles lined his face, but he didn't look as old as the men she had in mind who adorned the type of military uniform he had on. Each of his heavy footstep commanded attention and authority, the stride obviously perfected through many years of practice. She could tell he was a leader, but of what she did not know. The buttons across his chest almost appeared to be gleaming, highlighting how tidy his uniform was. Aside from a few errant strands of his brown hair, the rest were in place, perfectly combed back and held in place by moisture from the rain. It took someone with a peculiar type of skill to tread through Raccoon and look like he had just stepped out a coffee shop on a nice morning. This man was dangerous.

"A friend of Billy."

And now she instantly knew who he was. "Regan," she stated, the chills running down her spine as cold as his hard stare.

All the muscles in her body grew taut as she bit down her tongue. She didn't want to say anything else, for fear that she might hint at the sudden shock and panic ravaging her senses. She had momentarily forgotten about the disturbing sounds of something vibrating until he raised his arm in front of his face, walking toward her as if he were approaching her at a cocktail party to shake her hand.

Rebecca blinked, hoping she did not just see what she thought she did, but when his arm began to pulsate like an egg preparing to hatch, she knew this was not just a trick her mind was playing on her vision. Droplets of blood stained the ground, leaving a track she was sure Regan would not follow back. The skin that was visible beneath the hole in his sleeve began to stretch. Something was lurking underneath it, forcing the elasticity to expand in impossible ways. Something was whining, fighting for release, and when she saw the skin on his arm rupture in a flare of red, it took all the energy she had to stifle a scream.

Two purple tentacles as long as her arm shot through his skin, both identical, with jagged white teeth as big and shiny as daggers. Before she could even process the sight, the tentacles burrowed into his arm again, his skin stitching itself over the gaping wound. She had to wonder if what she had just seen was even real. Not even Nemesis had the ability to summon appendages and heal at will.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" he sneered.

Rebecca began to move backward, her gun never leaving its target. "Just what the hell are you infected with?"

"I wouldn't call this an 'infection.' I must admit that I was bothered at first, for letting a failed experiment do this to me. But had it not, I would have never known my capabilities, these powers. Sure I don't know what will happen to me later on. I don't know if the virus will kill me or will simply continue to thrive inside me, but when we're at a time like this, moments are what matter."

"Failed experiment?" she whispered, her mind trying to decipher just what the hell he was talking about.

"Josephine, better known as Billy's mother."

She felt as if she had just been shot with her own gun. If it weren't for the weight of the shock keeping her feet grounded to the floor, she would have long lost any stability. She feared to ask what he had done to her, but she was even more terrified of what _she _had done to her. Images of the creature she had gunned down outside the inn slapped her face like a whip of acid.

Her throat was dry as the desert, and each time she struggled to ask her next question, she felt as if she were swallowing sand, the grains quickly suffocating her.

Seeing that she was in no state to respond, he continued, "I managed to escape, but I'm not sure if she did."

Josephine didn't, because she had killed her. She had killed Billy's mother. A great pressure pounded against the bridge of her nose, forcing the tears in her eyes to spill once she made the tiny attempt to breathe.

"Oh my, from the look on your face, I'm afraid she didn't." He nodded toward her weapon, a hauntingly satisfied smirk painting his features.

Murderer. That one word was like a ball of fire that shot through her cold, petrified body, shattering her whole into too many pieces. She had taken too many lives, all were from nameless people and unrecognizable faces, but Josephine was not like them. Through the short stories Billy had told her, she had grown to fabricate her existence and familiarity in her mind, and she had sincerely hoped that one day, Billy would be able to make peace with her again. She understood how much he loved her, how hard he wanted to try to make things right so he would have no more regrets.

But she had denied him of that chance. She had killed Josephine right before her own son's eyes and taken his hope with her life, leaving Billy with only permanent regrets.

Refusing to believe what she had done, she squeezed her eyes shut, screaming at herself that once she opened them, she would find that she simply had a terrible nightmare. But Regan continued to speak. She had no idea what he was saying, but she heard him, the laughter in his voice, the advancement of his footsteps that forced her into the wall behind her. She was trapped—in this reality, with the consequences that came with the pull of a trigger.

"From the look on your face, I think I know what you want, and I'll gladly give it to you."

Blood sprayed her face, and she was already on her knees before she even got the chance to open her eyes. The Samurai Edge fell out of her hand when she brought her palms to her stomach, reflexively putting pressure on the horizontal slash than ran across her skin. She saw the blood on her palms through her tears—a very painful crimson sea that continued to flow from the cut. She could hear the tentacles thrashing wildly in the air, their movements creating a light but dangerous breeze over her head.

She anticipated the strike, and rolled just inches away from the dagger-like appendages that punctured the floor beside her. Forcing her hands to leave the source of her pain, she fumbled for her handgun the same time her legs swept behind Regan's shins. As ungraceful and weak she felt her kick was, it was enough to make the man stagger a bit, buying herself a few seconds to formulate a plan. There were pallet racks to the left and right of her, but the room generally did not offer much cover. She was lying in the middle of an open area, and was sure that she'd be dead before reaching the exit on the opposite side.

As insane as the idea was, she knew it was the only choice she had. Thoughts about dying would have been all she considered, but she blocked them out, refusing to acknowledge them as an option. She had to find Billy again, explain what she had done. What will happen after that was not a concern now. She just needed him to know that…God, she couldn't even find the right words.

She turned around once to fire the most accurate shot she could manage before rolling herself to a crouch. The bullet grazed one of the tentacles and knocked it into the wall, but no more than a few seconds later, it bounced back from the indention it created like a spring, renewed with energy and life.

Not good. Quickly finding balance on her feet and one arm supporting her stomach, she began to run. Taking advantage of the adrenaline rush to boost her speed, she forced her legs to move faster, despite how close they were to giving into the stabs of soreness that assaulted her body. The entire room began to shift in her vision, swaying side to side, disorienting her as she tried to blink away the blurs. The sound of her footsteps amplified in her ears, drowning out all other noises, Regan's steps included. It was only when she felt warm air against her back that she turned around and fired into one of the tentacles before it could trust its tip into her flesh. She only knew the weight of the menacing teeth when a few disengaged from the tissue, falling to the ground like heavy stones.

Before she could pull the trigger again at the other talon, it curled itself around her handgun, and as if it had a mine of its own, it knew just what to do. Her only weapon was tugged from her grasp and thrown into the shadows by the door.

"No!" she gasped out, reflexively reaching in the direction of where her gun laid until she felt like pincers were drilling into her skin. The sharp teeth cut into her skin like razor blades, the coil tightening the more she resisted.

Regan's good hand disappeared into the pocket of his trench coat only to emerge with a Glock in his grip. "As much as I want to kill you now for interfering, I'm more interested in seeing how you fare against Coen. His transformation should almost be completed."

_Transformation? That means…Regan doesn't know he's been cured. Billy…get away, _she prayed, her teeth clattering against each other as she fought for breath between the throbs of pain.

Regan took another step closer, only to further the distance between them with a powerful kick against her abdomen that sent her crashing into the wall behind her. She had never been hit by a car, but was certain that this was what it felt like. There was a deadly virus growing inside him, and she was sure it was nurturing something more than just his strength. Cradling her wounded wrist in her other palm, she kept her head low. She couldn't look up at him, not when there were enough tears and sweat to cleanse her dirty face, betraying every bit of weakness she felt inside.

"I'll admit there's a good chance that the virus will eventually kill me, but I'm at a point in life where death no longer bothers me. Raccoon will be wiped out tomorrow, and all of Umbrella's secrets will be buried beneath the city's collapse. You think my image won't draw attention if I were to get out of here alive?"

"Then why haven't you killed yourself yet?" she spat.

"I have one final mission I must carry out for Spencer. In addition, I must keep reactivating the Nemesis project and retrieve as many data samples as possible before the city's destruction."

She was delirious with anger, and felt it could almost make the blood pooling beneath her boil with heat. "So that's why we can't stop running into Nemesis, huh?"

There was a pause before a chuckle echoed throughout the warehouse; for the first time, she noticed an alteration in his voice. It was deeper with a chilling reverberation that projected its unnaturalness. "It won't rest until all the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members are annihilated. Perhaps you'll be glad to know that Jill Valentine is still being hunted."

"Why? Why…are you doing this? Why choose to work for Spencer? Why did you betray Billy?"

Even though his answer was not going to make any different, she felt she had to know why. What had made this man gone so mad that he would work for Umbrella's vile founder?

"Why did you decide to work for S.T.A.R.S.? We're just on two different sides of the same coin. You decided to join S.T.A.R.S. and gave them your loyalty because you agreed with their principles. Well, my own experiences helped me share Spencer's vision. You think I'm evil, don't you? But who's to say that from my perspective, _you're _not the one on the wicked side? I'll let you in on a little secret. Many of Umbrella's workers used to be people like _you_. Why do you think they changed sides?"

"Are you talking about Irons?"

"He's one of them, one of _many_," Regan confirmed. "Not everyone seeks paychecks from Umbrella. No amount of money can buy the revenge they seek."

Had she been naïve all this time? To believe that the majority of Umbrella's staff was innocent, but was caught in the mess because they were not privy to the dark secrets only a select few members of Umbrella knew. Was it really true that they had not been deceived like her friends in S.T.A.R.S.?

"But while we're here," he continued, malice growing in his tone, "let's see how long you can hold out for until your infected prince comes for you."

She thought she was imagining the burgundy glow that illuminated his eyes, but when the color continued to swim in her vision like swirls of ruby wine, she had a sinking feeling that she wasn't going to see Billy again. Regan intended to leave her alive until he came, and as much as she mentally trusted herself to survive until she could see Billy again, she was not sure how much more physical torment her body could handle.

A volley of gun fires reverberated through the warehouse, and she couldn't contain a frightened yell, expecting the bullets to rip through her. Instead, the sound of glass shattering diverted her attention from the shots, the quick rain of cold, thin shards tempted her to expose her head from the protection of her arms so she could see just what had caused the sudden commotion. One of the high windows above her had ruptured, creating a passage for a figure to dive through. The shadow somersaulted in the air, graceful rolls breaking his fall when he touched the ground with his knee.

"You can forget that. No one else is dying because of me."

_Billy?_

She heard the true rings of shock in Regan's voice as he fought to suppress his disbelief, his Glock shakily finding a new target. "What? How? How are you still alive?"

Billy stepped in front of her, her machine gun in his arms, the rest of their weapons strapped across his back. She also noticed a new cache of ammunition secured with the guns. Sometime after she had left him, he must have replenished all their artillery. His radio was there too, and it occurred to her that it was either their source of communication or the shots she had fired that led him to the warehouse.

It was extraordinary how she could feel the anger radiating from his skin. Too accustomed to the usual displays of anger through verbal and physical actions, this type of transmission sent cold shivers running down her back. Billy had not made a single move, had not even responded save for that one promise, kept his back to her, yet, she could perfectly envision his face as dark as a storm, his stone cold mask eroding to reveal a broken man desperate for his own revenge.

Tiny flickering lights of orange, red, and yellow lit up the room like a torch casting away the darkness. Light and darkness fought against each other, to the rhythm of gunfire—light struggling to irradiate a victory, the darkness vying to hide shame. Rebecca witnessed both sides until the machine gun in Billy's hands clicked empty, the afterglow of the terrible war revealing Regan slowly falling to his knees before his entire body collapsed forward into his own blood, concealing the gruesome disfigurement.

Smoke billowed from the muzzle of the spent gun, but Billy made no move to lower it. His hands were frozen in place; his finger still had the trigger pulled back. He was as rigid as a statue. She listened for his breathing, but could only hear her own, sharp but faint like distant valley winds.

Finally, she saw his shoulders slumping, his arms dropping, his head bowing as if he had come set aside something that seemed too good to be true. A man whom he barely knew and knew all too well was lying before him, his death putting the yearning for all unanswered questions to rest. Just like her, she was sure Billy longed for answers and explanations, as if whatever Regan fed him was not good enough. And in all truthfulness, it wasn't. Mere words could never reflect the intensity of emotions, a moment at the pinnacle of pain or joy. Words are only there to tell about what you cannot experience for yourself, and if you ever happen to get the chance to, you may find that it's nothing like you have been told.

Maybe Billy understood that, knew that no answer will ever suffice in mending his fractured heart.

When he turned to face her, she barely recognized the face of her savior. The vulnerability she always knew he had finally showed itself through his features. Fear, anxiety, and all the feelings he had been afraid to reveal until now broke through the dam when he sank to his knees and embraced her, his grip so strong that she could feel his dread of having almost lost her not for the first time since Raccoon's demise. He must have known about how she had killed his mother, and yet, he was able to find solace by being with her.

"I killed her. I'm so sorry," she whispered, her lips quivering with the rest of her body as the truth continued to poison her system.

He remained quiet, just hugged her tighter, his touch somehow managing to alleviate the guilt encased inside her. But she didn't deserve this kindness, this reprieve.

"Billy, say something," she pleaded. She wanted to hear him lay the blame on her, release the spiteful words that were just at the tip of his tongue. But if he really wanted to, he would have done so already. Why hadn't he? Why did he keep this from her?

"It wasn't your fault," he said at last with genuine sincerity. A bloody hand moved to wipe away her tears—so warm, so gentle, entreating her to press her cheek against his palm. "You did it because you were trying to save me. It may be hard for you to believe this, but she knows just how much I love her." Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the bracelet he had mentioned in his story. It felt surreal to see it. The jewelry was so damaged, but she found beauty entrenched within each imperfection. "And I now know just how much I meant to her."

A real smile graced his lips. It was the first time she saw his eyes light up when speaking about her. "But let's not dwell on that now. We still need to get out of here, whenever you're ready."

A fresh wave of warm tears pushed through her eyes. A heartbreaking reunion that lasted no more than a few minutes was the only moment he got with his mother after spending years apart from her. And now she was removed from his life again, permanently this time. But somehow, during her dying moments, he had found what he sought to get for almost his entire life. Josephine had suffered at the hands of Umbrella, but now she was granted true peace, eternal peace with herself and her son.

She was sure that if Josephine were still alive, she would have wanted to take revenge on Umbrella. But Billy was now here to accomplish what she could not.

And she was here to do the same for her friends.

It was now that she was reminded that people would go to extreme lengths to protect the ones they care for, at whatever cost. Consequences were hardly regarded in the equation when emotions overpowered all. At the time, Billy had only his mother's best interest at heart, and wanted to shield her from the secret he had to carry to his death. Who was she, compared to Josephine, with whom he was bonded by blood?

It took one of the worst tragedies to help her see that now, after the tears carried away the resentment that clouded her previous judgments and thoughts.

"Still, I'm…I'm so sorry," she told him, but the apology could never resonate how responsible she truly felt.

"Then prove it to me by helping me get outta here. Only then can we begin to expose Umbrella."

He moved back, gently dragging her body with him until she felt her head touch the wall. Leaning against it for support, she tried to hide the utterance of pain through shallow breaths by finding something else to say. But as usual, it was hard to keep things from Billy, and she had to ask herself why she was still doing it. She didn't need to speak another word. He was already reaching for a medical kit hidden behind the holstered shotgun.

"Got lucky and found a whole bunch of good stuff," he said, a small grin lighting up his face and her hope like beacons.

"The government is planning on launching a missile to Raccoon. Tomorrow morning," she admitted, closing her eyes to fight against the fatigue. They needed to move, yet, she couldn't even bring herself to stand on her feet. She tried to bend her knees, but they only responded with awkward shifts.

A reassuring hand pressed onto them before a medicinal scent wafted beneath her nostrils. Knowing that she was going to be healed, her body reflexively wanted to shut down and fall into a coma to speed up the process. What prevented it from doing so was her mind, the constant urges telling her that they needed to go—go find Jill, find their escape route, plan their next move after Raccoon.

Billy leaned closer to her, offering his shoulder to her head. "Just rest for now," he replied, not a hint of panic in his tone, "while you still can."

And she did, her consciousness lost before he even got to finish his sentence.

* * *

He had waited. For hours. For the two to leave. For his body to regenerate. For the miracle of the new virus to begin.

And now he was finally beginning to feel its effects, the faintest strength returning to him, allowing him to push himself up on to his knees. The pain was excruciating, like dipping sore flesh into fire. The stench of death greeted his head once it lifted from the ground, and his eyes found the bloody footprints that led toward the door and out of the warehouse. Dead bodies littered around him, and up until a few hours ago, he was one of them. Had it not been for the inhuman part of his body that had saved him, he would have been another corpse among the many that made the new population of Raccoon City.

He could not remember when he was saved, but could only logically assume that it was moments after Billy and Rebecca left. The tentacles, somehow capable of reconstructing themselves without his bodily functions, had acted as his sentries. Waiting until no threats could be detected in the warehouse, they discovered the syringe with the remaining bit of the NE-T virus and injected it into him. He had always known that the virus would bond well with his DNA, but he had no idea that it acted as an elixir for him, too.

A small ball of energy traveled through his body, expanding as it moved about faster. Then it became inflated with too much force, the pressure tearing through his skin and giving birth to new appendages that substituted his useless limbs. These new parts all had their own minds, acted independent of his thoughts, but knew exactly what needed to be done to best serve their host.

He did not understand them, could not comprehend how they thrived, just simply knew that he would not be animated without them, and they would not exist if not for his body and how it merged with the viruses.

Regan was alive again, given a second chance to settle the score.

* * *

A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating for over three months. I was trying to balance school and freaking out about my career now that I'm about to graduate soon, but I'm glad that I'm back to doing the things I enjoy again instead of stressing so much. I'll still be taking summer classes, but now that most of my classes are finished, I hope I can devote more time to this story as well as some other one-shots. As always, thank you so much for being patient and reading and reviewing _Over and Out_. This story has been running for almost two years, so thank you again for all the support!

There will be more Billy/Rebecca scenes following this chapter!


	29. Chapter 29

Remnants

**Thursday, September 31st, morning**

He had wanted nothing more than to hold her as she slept, be the sentry that guarded her rare moment of reprieve within a sanctuary she'd share with no one. He had wanted her to spend as much time as she could at that shelter, so that she would not be tainted with the horrors, lies, and deceptions that painted the Devil's mural. But, the vile colors bled through the frail borders of reality and began to stain the empty slate of her unconsciousness, rousing her till she was fully reminded why she could not afford to lose another second, while they still had time.

He had not been sure how long she was asleep for before they left the warehouse, but just knew it was not even a fraction of the time she deserved. Rebecca had said that the government was planning on launching a missile at the city by dawn tomorrow, but the gravity of that warning did not sink in then, and it still didn't faze him now. There was too much on his mind, too many demons his psyche had to ward off. Even though Regan was now dead, he still couldn't shake away that wicked man's presence, the stench of his death trailing closely behind him.

He swore he could smell the foul scent even now, at least a mile away from the decaying corpse.

"You okay?" Rebecca asked quietly.

Billy nodded, but he could still see her looking at him sharply from the corner of her eye. Under the pretext of scouting the area, he quickly tore his eyes away from her the same time she averted hers from his gaze, probably thinking the same thing he did. The trek from the warehouse to this point had been mostly silent with just a few commands and words of agreement that were needed to get rid of the nuances in their way, but the silence wasn't one that was uncomfortable and stifling. It felt almost like an entity, a mediator that was there to observe and slowly help mend the fractured partnership. It was there to keep a distance between them for space, but the moment danger was evident, actions spoke for them.

They had been walking toward Downtown for almost two hours. Fortunately, they were in a neighborhood that was rather isolated from the heart of the city. Few residents meant fewer undead to deal with. The streets were nearly barren save for some disheveled heaps of trash and pipes, but nothing out of the ordinary that one would not find on an ordinary day. In fact, this neighborhood was so unlike the rest of the city, as it bore great semblance to normalcy: the grass on the lawns were still fresh and green, starkly contrasting the white picket fences that proudly stood their ground, windows of the houses remained intact, flowers still lay in bloom in the gardens. The only thing missing from the scene was a cherry pie sitting on a windowsill, as a family of four and a dog wait for their dessert to cool. Yeah, then it'd really look like a scene straight from one of those 'American Dream' movies he so despised.

The sun casted an almost artificial-looking sheen on the houses, giving them a very plastic-like appearance that made him feel he was walking through a toy set. The sheer novelty of this milieu was beginning to unnerve him ten times more than Raccoon's warzones at night.

It didn't click to him until now that the roads were wider in this part of the town too, with hardly any obstacles in the distance ahead. Like the bright beams of the sun poking through the clear morning sky, the path seemed to stretch on infinitely without disturbances in sight.

He took quick glances around him, noting several damaged vehicles, but none seemed to be terribly defective. Rebecca stopped, and he couldn't help but wonder if the same idea hit her too. When she turned to face him, her eyes glimmering glossy excitement, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

"This will save us hours," she said, already walking toward a black Ford.

Seeing that Rebecca had dropped her defense, he followed her and continued to support the weight of the shotgun in his hands as if their lives depended solely on that weapon. It would be far too reckless for them both to remain unguarded, even if this part of town did seem too perfect. She stopped in front of the car, and before he could even suggest that he should take a look at it first, she popped open the hood, her eyes quickly roving about to scan whatever it was she was looking for. He knew exactly what they should be checking for, but apparently so did his younger companion when she faced him with a small grin.

"We can definitely hotwire this car," she announced from her assessment.

Once again, the intelligence beneath her innocent façade impressed him. "Oh?" he challenged. "Care to set things up then?"

He expected her to give him control and make him feel slightly like a sexist—as she had done a few times in the past— but she tucked her Samurai Edge into the waistband of her shredded leather pants and rubbed her chin. The sharp, critical glare reflected from her eyes almost seemed to gleam, and he was sure it was not simply the sunlight playing a trick on his vision. By the time he traced her sight to the coil wires at the back of the V-8 engine, she was already staring at the battery.

"I can handle this part here. You just break into the car."

He lingered for a few seconds longer before convincing himself she knew what she was doing. "Don't mind if I do." Without even a hint of hesitation, he rammed the stock of the shotgun through the window of the driver's seat and unlocked the vehicle from the inside. He pulled the door opened and smoothed away the glass before seating himself before the wheel. "I don't suppose you want to drive as well?"

"I don't know how to drive. No license yet, just a permit," she stated in a tone that made her sound like she was listing a fact about herself at an interview.

"Yet you know how to hotwire a car. Interesting…" he muttered under his breath. A slew of witty jokes ran through his head, but he clamped his lips. He normally would have blurted out something inappropriate to tease her, but now there was an urge to keep his mouth shut. Again, things felt different…no, things _were _different, but at least he didn't feel it was necessarily a terrible thing, or so he hoped.

Billy placed a hand on the wheel, his thumb running over the ridges as he thought about their plan again. It was simple: move from point A to point B. They were still heading for the docks near the University on Good Street. Then they would get out of the city via sea, but what about after that? Yes, they had to expose Umbrella, and that could be done in a number of ways. The best method would be to regroup with the remaining S.T.A.R.S members and perhaps gather some reinforcements to fortify their claims, but the more he thought about that idea, the more he felt he did not belong. True, he was a victim and sought his own personal revenges, but—

He thought hard, and was hit with the memory of tagging along with his friend Todd on a family vacation in the seventh grade. Todd's family was going to Nebraska to visit some relatives during summer vacation, but Todd was hell-bent on not going unless his family allowed him to bring a friend along. Out of everyone Todd could have chosen, he selected Billy to accompany him. He remembered the plastic smiles Todd's parents gave in their son's presence and the cold shoulders and scowls when Billy was alone with them. He was just a kid then, and so those menacing gazes frightened him even more than nearly being carried away by rough tides on a particularly windy night at the beach during Todd's vacation. Though he was no longer in seventh grade, the same fear and discomfort struck him.

But the ill feeling did not linger for too long. Unlike that time, he was in a position to make his own decisions now, and the answer to what needed to be done was quite an obvious one to him.

He was further calmed by the roar of the engine and the sound of the hood being slammed down, revealing almost a devilish smile from Rebecca on the other side of the glass.

He unlocked the door of the shotgun seat for her, eyeing her as she slipped into the car with easy grace. "Nice job," he complimented.

"Thanks," she replied, staring at him slightly longer than what was considered customary. "So, you gonna drive?"

He smirked and stepped on the gas. "Wherever the lady wants."

Having done almost nothing but shooting and running the past few days, driving felt relatively surreal to him. The car provided a certain defense that was far greater than what their guns could grant, but it was the fact that they were not using their limbs for the arduous journey that made him feel slightly removed from the apocalypse and a tiny bit closer to the real escape. He knew it was best to not hold on to this thread of hope too tightly, for it was a flimsy one that would snap the harder he clung to it. Still, it was hard not to feel excited when he increased the speed, the car zipping down the streets, hitting the undead in its way like bowling a strike.

Rebecca unfolded the map and went over the directions. So far so good. There were no immediate blockades in sight.

"Turn left and take the path of the trolley," she instructed, her eyes shifting from the map to the road ahead. "If you don't, we'll just end up in the more urbanized sectors of Raccoon."

"Gotcha."

Driving over the tracks was bumpier than he'd thought, but if it meant a quicker exit, he did not mind. He just hoped they would not be meeting a runaway train anytime soon.

"If you keep going down this route, we should be able to hit the harbor, as it's one of the stops of the trolley," Rebecca said, tucking the map away.

He cast a quick glance in her direction, saw that something else on her mind was agitating her breathing. Her eyes searched the surroundings beyond the glass, the certain hope to find a particular someone so strong that even he shared her disappointment when nothing but rows of debris and corpses lined their views.

"She's out there," he reassured, not just for the sake of comforting Rebecca. He truly believed Jill was still alive, and perhaps she had already left the city. The latter would be more ideal.

"And that little girl, Sherry?"

He didn't comment about Sherry, and Rebecca could tell from his lack of encouraging words that the little girl's chances of survival were significantly less.

He suddenly didn't like the 'downtime.' While it was much needed for the sake of their bodies, their minds were now going through exertion. Relying on the relative security of the vehicle, they could afford time to let their minds wander, allowing strange and depressing emotions to inundate their spirits. Rebecca looked as if she was going to add something else but changed her mind and turned her head, her noticeably longer hair shrouding every perceivable feature of her face. He decided it was for the best to not question what else lingered in her thoughts. It wasn't like he had no inkling.

He tried to focus on driving, but the linear road was causing him to become quite lax. Since the night of his mother's death, he was exposed to a new feeling that was like a disease, festering inside him, preventing his will from creating immunity toward it. There was more to this feeling than just pain and anger. Had it only been Regan involved in his mother's death, this sentiment would have been nigh on impossible to contain inside him without letting it consume him entirely. Because Rebecca's actions had also played a part in the outcome of the tragedy, this ill sensation was a bit more tolerable, for his forgiveness acted like the balm that soothed the scorched fractures of both heart and soul. He knew his mother's death was inevitable, but to know that her life ended for the right reasons, at the hands of someone with the right motives, was infinitely more acceptable than her dying for Regan's sick pleasure. He wasn't sure if relief was the right word. Maybe acceptance…but then he wouldn't feel this yearning in his heart, the urge to chase something that was separated from him by life.

"Something on your mind?" Rebecca suddenly asked, her eyes still glued to the window pane.

It hit him that she could see his reflection through the glass.

"Sorry, of course you have things on your mind," she amended, and then struggled to find another apology.

"It's fine," he reassured. "You got a lot on your mind too, I know."

The silence was really starting to bother them, so he fumbled for the dial of the radio, surprised to find that there was a hazy channel playing drowned out music. It was jazz, or so he thought. The piano dominated the rest of the instruments that were overwhelmed by static. As strident as the chords were, he could already feel the tension lifting.

His second moment of shock stemmed from Rebecca's giggle. Confused, he raised an eyebrow and quickly glanced in her direction, keeping his general sight on the road. "What's so funny?"

"Hearing this sorta reminds me of the time I tried to play the piano in Arklay," she said, returning his gaze with a small grin. "That was pretty bad, huh?"

Billy agreed with a chuckle. "Sounded like your were playing by ear."

"Huh? But I was reading off the sheet-"

"By banging your head against the keys," he finished, his own lips widening into a smile.

Rebecca frowned, but then her eyes widened and he felt a punch against his bicep.

He laughed this time. "Sorry, bad joke?"

"Yeah, it was a bad joke, and just what I'd expect from you."

"But I bet what you _didn't _expect was seeing a guy like me play piano, huh?'

He saw her attempting to find the right words to her defense and simply shrugged off the comment with a chuckle. "I had some friends at West Point who also played, and sometimes we'd get together and enjoy some music—just to take our minds off of stress, you know?"

Rebecca gasped. "West Point? But I thought you said you joined the Marines right after school."

He nodded. The years he had spent at the military academy after High school had been some of the best and worst days of his life. It was the latter that made him kept his mouth shut about the prestigious school. Even so, in retrospect he was grateful for those horrid days that had prepared him well for the cruelty of the battlefield. He thought he had seen it all until _this _apocalypse emerged, and now he wished he had gone through even more malicious tortures just to face today's reality. "My High school fucked up my transcript, and it wasn't until after graduation that my true grades were finally shown. West Point somehow found out about my grades and offered me a full scholarship."

"And as soon you graduated, you became Second Lieutenant," Rebecca finished. "Wow…and you say I'm impressive."

"Girl, _you're_ a genius."

"Yeah, but they don't just let anyone become Second Lieutenant. I had always thought you worked your way up the ranks. Sorry, I'm not sure how the military runs."

He nodded. "Good. Trust me; you don't want to know what goes on."

The road ahead still appeared to be smooth, so he opened the way for another conversation. "Now there's something I want to know about you."

"What's that?"

"Your tattoo," he pointed out. "Back at the bar, you told me there's a story behind it. Since we have some time to kill, why don't you tell me about it? I'm curious, because you don't really strike me as a tattoo girl, no offense."

"Oh this butterfly?" She looked at her arm, a flush rising to her cheeks.

"Yeah, there's gotta be a story behind it right?" he urged on.

Rebecca sighed. "You'll probably think it's stupid."

"Only if the story really is stupid, but I doubt that."

She hesitated for a few seconds but finally gave in. "Fine. I was bullied a lot when I was younger, mostly from kids at school. Being the brightest in all my grades, I always stood out, awkwardly. I became notorious throughout my school, was called a bunch of names."

He frowned. "Really? I never would have guessed that. You strike me as the quiet but popular girl."

She laughed softly. "That was me in college, but from Elementary to High school, I was always picked on. In High school, I became friends with this girl. She was really tough…no one messed with her. However, she wasn't the brightest student. One day, she approached me and told me if I helped her with her studies, she'd get people off my back."

"Ah, so I wasn't your first bodyguard then."

"I didn't really see her as my bodyguard!" Rebecca protested.

Billy didn't comment further, a feeling of contentment rising in his chest when she didn't dispute the idea that he was one of her guards.

"She was more like an acquaintance," she continued. "But I changed a lot when I hung out with her. I even went through a 'bad girl' phase, you can say."

One of his eyebrows arched upward. "Okay, now that's something I want to know more about. Do tell."

"Umm…I helped her steal some stuff at a mall, forged some notices for her teachers to explain missing absences, cut classes with her. I met some of her other friends, one of whom taught me how to hotwire a car."

His eyes widened, a jolt of shock leaping to his chest. "Oh, now it makes perfect sense. Wow, out of everyone, I didn't expect Little Miss Perfect to do all that."

Rebecca twisted her arm around, a glowing smile lighting up her face as she looked at the butterfly. "That friend later went on to become a tattoo artist. She's the one who did this for me. I'm grateful to her because she allowed me to change. I became a lot stronger after meeting her and began to stand up for myself. I've always been interested in butterflies, especially metamorphosis in the science curriculums in school."

"And it resembles you too—the change you went through," he concluded.

"Right. I've always been this quiet and shy girl, but I want to be reminded that I am capable of looking out for myself, too. It's one of the reasons I enjoyed S.T.A.R.S.—I wanted to prove that I have what it takes to be one of them. But wow, when I saw how talented everyone on the team was, I began to have some serious doubts again."

"Well, you definitely did stand your ground with me when we first met."

Rebecca scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and how did that turn out? You ended up ignoring me and walking away."

Billy winked, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. "Well, I'll admit that I was definitely surprised you even approached me. Not a lot of people do that. Guess I got that scary vibe going on."

"You're…intimidating," she admitted, "but not so much once you start opening up."

He agreed with her, but took a few moments to welcome the swell of warmth embracing his heart. He had not expected to talk to her so easily, as if nothing had come damaged their relationship. The feeling was at once familiar and foreign, calm like gentle waves upon sand and turbulent like the real force hidden beneath dark waters. At first, he thought that the emotion had imploded, the destructive burst shattering every last bit of stability in his body and clutching his windpipe. But then he saw the world before the windshield disappear with a blurry streak of colors—blue, black, red and orange—like smoke and fire catapulting into the sky. He was flying through the air—no, not just him…the entire vehicle was. He instinctively turned to face Rebecca and sensed that she wanted to scream, but he never heard it.

When he hit land again, only deafening silence filled his ears; the sweltering pain came seconds after.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the time I took with this update (and it's not even that long of a chapter either ^^;). Real life got in the way yet again, ugh. Next chapter will be filled with more action, which is practically non-existent here, but we got to know another bit about Rebecca's and Billy's past. As always, thank you for reading and supporting this story. Please review!


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